Butterfly
by Anonymous Girl Gamer
Summary: High school is a place where new friends are made, interests are formed and rivalries surface. Beatrice Prior, the quiet girl coming straight from middle school, is about to discover that for herself, along with all of the other new students. As the typical challenges of a new school threaten to break her, she must learn to overcome each obstacle, including a certain blue-eyed boy.
1. Prologue

**Hi everyone! This is my second Divergent fic. I'm not from America so I hope the school is depicted accurately as an American high school. Also, this is just the prologue: Tris will be starting school in the next chapter, making new friends, etc. Oh yeah, and this is told through Tris's POV. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: All characters used in the entire fic are owned by Veronica Roth, excluding a few minor ones.**

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"I can't believe we won't be together anymore."

All three of us turn to look at Susan Black as we step out of the grocery shop. She's quiet today, quiter than usual, and they are the first words she's spoken all evening, apart from greeting us. And thanking the shopkeeper after paying for the bread and milk, which she offered to buy for her father, rather than let him go for it himself like I would have probably done.

Susan is selfless that way. And Robert, and Caleb. I wish I could be like that too; it would be nice not to always feel like I don't fit in with them.

"Do you want me to carry that for you?" Robert asks, looking at the plastic bag in her hand.

"Thank you, Robert. But I'm fine."

"No, no. Let me take it."

Robert and Susan are closer than most siblings I know, including myself and Caleb. That might be down to the fact that they are twins, alike in personality and looks, with their blonde curly hair and square jaw. Caleb and I are close in age, mere months between us, but we are different people: he tends to think more of others than himself, and always says the right thing. Me... not so much.

Caleb looks at Susan a little longer than a friend would, watching her as she hands the bag to Robert. I lock eyes with Robert, and he smirks a little, apparently noticing it too. Our parents are neighbours, and all four of us have stuck together since before kindergarten, attending the same schools, playing with each other almost every day. But recently, Caleb seems to see Susan as more than a friend. Sometimes I tease him about it when Mom and Dad aren't watching - they aren't fond of us mocking each other - and while he never admits to it, he doesn't deny it, either.

Now, we are going to go to different high schools. After being with each other til the last day of middle school and over summer, we'll have to split, myself and Caleb in one place, Susan and Robert in another. I don't know how I feel about that. I think I should be devastated, considering I've known the Black twins all my life. Instead, I remember how our mothers and fathers _wanted_ us to play with each other, suggested that we hung around each other. If I'd met them somewhere else, I'm not sure if I'd have wanted to make friends with them. They're not bad, they're just... not really my type of people.

"So..." Robert fiddles with the hem of his shirt. We all wear grey today, the only thing different being the shade. We almost look alike, as a result, and maybe people who don't know us very well mistake us for siblings as we walk down the streets. Perhaps they think I'm the youngest one, with my childlike face and small body, no curves anywhere, when I am in fact older than the twins.

Robert lets out a small sigh. "Any of you nervous for tomorrow?"

We are silent for a bit. I stare ahead, taking in the familiar sight of my neighbourhood. The houses are almost identical, with their bricked walls, porched fronts, and large windows.

"I guess," I say, followed by a nod from Susan and Caleb.

He doesn't answer as we stop outside his house. He then turns to Susan, a serious expression on his face.

"I think I'll stay out here for a while. You go inside Susan, and give Dad the bread and milk. Tell him I'm just outside."

"Okay." She opens her door, stray golden curls flying with the summer breeze, and shuts the door quietly behind her.

Robert kicks a stone as we stroll down the path. The stone is grey, just the colour of my shapeless frock, worn to please Mom and Dad, who have strict ideas on what we wear.

They mean well.

I know they mean well.

But...

What if their concern for my well-being is doing me harm? What if it's stopping me from making other friends, people more adventurous than the ones I have now?

"You know, Beatrice," Robert says slowly. I cringe. I never liked my name all that much. "This is going to sound strange, but... I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow."

"Of course." I smile. "All of us are, even if we're nervous. Or most of us, anyway."

"Yeah, but... that's not really what I mean." He stops kicking the stone, and turns to me and Caleb. "I'm not even... worried. I'm excited to meet new people. I'm excited to become a new person. I feel trapped, and... I feel like my parents kind of, I don't know, made me into the person I am at the moment. And Beatrice, Caleb..." He presses his lips together. "I don't think I'm happy with who I am anymore. I want to be different. I want to have lots of friends. I want to be someone who's liked by everyone. Not... someone who blends in til nobody sees me."

I chew on Robert's words. I hate to admit it, but he is right: we are unnoticeable, forgettable. Nobody would look at us and say: oh look, there's Beatrice. They'd look at me once and never remember who I am. Even the teachers called us by the wrong names sometimes.

"I think," he continues on, "I think high school is a fresh start for all of us. It's an opportunity. I don't know about either of you, you're nice people and it's your choice. But I'm going to take this... this opportunity, to be myself. Not what anyone else wants me to be."

Again, that silence.

"He has a point, Beatrice," Caleb says softly.

"I... I'll keep that in mind," I say. I smile a little, because I'm not sure what else to do. "I-I'd better get inside. Mom and Dad will be worried. Bye, Robert."

"Bye, Beatrice. See you, Caleb."

As we enter our home, plain on the inside, devoid of any decorations or ornaments, I realise that this is the first time I've heard Robert be so honest, so open. And it's the first time I've considered that I can choose to be a different person. I can become a new person like Robert will do, ditch the quiet, reserved me, and transform into someone a little more memorable. Not the stereotypical popular girl, but someone just that bit more likable.

It's my choice, I suppose.

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 **I hope I wrote it like Tris would speak. Also, I changed Robert's speech a lot: he sounded so preachy in the original draft. Please review!**


	2. New School, New Name

**Hi everyone! I had to split the "first day" chapter into two because it was too long. I don't know if I focused too much on the morning routine... but I felt it was needed for character development. It may be a slow start, but the story will have a faster pace once Tris has made her friends, which is in this and the next chapter. Also I had to make up a surname for David. Enjoy!**

 **biancalovestoread: Here's the second chapter (well technically it's the first because the last one was only the prologue. _Anyway_...)! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Charms22: Glad you liked it! That's actually one of the reasons I wouldn't like to live in the Divergent universe: the fact that anyone under sixteen is virtually forced to be someone they're not. **

**Thanks to AnnLiberty, KIWIPIE BEATS DAUNTLESSCAKE, BookThief35, Infinite's Ruby, pr1nce77 and mckenziebarnett for following, and also Charms22 and WriterGirl001 for following and favouriting my story!**

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My eyelids flicker open to the sound of my alarm beeping. At first I am too lazy to turn it off, but when I can't stand it anymore, I raise an arm over the button. I wonder why I set it for half seven. It takes a few seconds for my tired mind to realise: it is the first day of school. High school.

I rub the sleep from my rim of my eyes, and decide to get up. I go into the family bathroom, my feet pattering against the wooden floorboards, and peer in the mirror. My eyes are bleary, tired; a little splash of water should resolve that.

I make my way back to my bedroom, and wonder what I should wear. My wardrobe isn't the most colourful: it consists of black and different shades of grey, with bits of blue here and there, baggy hoodies and loose frocks and tracksuits and large t-shirts. I choose a hoodie, paired with tracksuit bottoms which go way past my ankles and touch the floor. My height is a constant problem: I can't always find my size when shopping, so I either have to buy clothes from the kids' section, or garments that are too big for me. I prefer the latter. I'd rather not look more like a little girl than I do already.

I tie my hair into a neat bun at the nape of my neck, and secure it with blonde-coloured pins. There. I feel comfortable, and won't draw too much attention to myself. I vowed yesterday that I'd change into somebody more memorable, but it'll take a while to ditch my old habits.

I go downstairs, and into our small kitchen. Caleb is already there, helping Mom and Dad with the breakfast like he always does. That means I'll have to help, too, else I'll seem lazy and selfish.

"Good morning, Mom and Dad," I greet. "Good morning, Caleb."

"Good morning, Beatrice."

"Do you need any help with the breakfast? I can set the table, or-"

"No thank you, Beatrice, Caleb has it done already. Maybe you could... butter the toast? There's a few slices toasted on the plate over there."

"Okay Dad."

I grab a blunt knife, and begin my task. I was hoping they'd let me get away with the housework, just for today, but I'm assuming Caleb offered for both of us, so I am trapped. I love my brother, but sometimes I find it hard not to slap him.

After about ten minutes we are finally seated at the table, our toast and homemade orange juice in front of us. I notice that some of the toast is torn from where I buttered it, most likely from me being too rough while I was busy resenting Caleb, before feeling guilty about my thoughts.

"So," Mom starts. "Are you excited?"

Caleb shrugs. "I don't know. I guess."

"What about you, Beatrice?"

I am silent for a bit. Am I excited? Should I be? I think nervous would be a better way to describe it, not the "shaking in my boots" kind of nervous, but just enough for butterflies to temporarily live in my stomach.

"I'm... a bit nervous."

"Don't worry, Beatrice. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Her smile is kind and reassuring, and just for a second, my worries are gone. My mother could be beautiful, I think, if she left her hair loose instead of in a severe knot, and wore more fashionable clothes. She doesn't look her age, only a few wrinkles here and there, and her body is slim.

"I remember my first day in high school," Dad says. "It was... not very good."

"What happened?" I ask.

"My friend and I walked into the classroom, it was second class that day. I think it was math, but I can't remember right now. Anyway, we went in, and-"

"I don't think you should be telling our children that story right now, Andrew."

He clears his throat and nods, and I have to keep myself from groaning aloud. We are big now. We don't need to be protected. Some people have a bad first day, some people have a good first day. No bad experiences on my father's behalf is going to change what I'll go through.

All of us are finished after a while, and we put our plates on the counter so Mom can wash up, as it is her turn today. We don't own a dishwasher - a waste of money, my dad calls it. We take turns with jobs in my house, and we change every day. Caleb has to cook today's dinner, for example, and tomorrow, it'll be me.

Aren't we lucky that we are all good cooks, or we would be poisoned every few days.

Caleb and I walk up the stairs together, and enter the bathroom. We take our toothbrushes - mine is the silver one - and brush our teeth. He's done before me, so he fills his cup with water, spits in the sink and rinses his mouth with water. I do the same, and wipe my own mouth with the towel, looking in the mirror to make sure my face is clean. Caleb is about a foot taller than me, I notice. I remember when _he_ was the smaller sibling, despite being the eldest. I wish I could bring back those days, when I didn't feel so insignificant, like I wasn't good enough compared to him.

I check my watch. Eight fifteen. Our bus arrives at the stop at half past eight, so we'd better leave, as it is a ten minute walk from our house.

"Caleb," I say. "I think we should go now."

He nods as we pick up our school bags at the bottom of the staircase and put them on our backs.

"Mom, Dad, we're going!"

Mom and Dad appear in the hallway.

"Good luck," Mom says, giving both of us a hug. "And have a nice day."

"Thanks Mom. Bye Dad."

They wave at us as we leave, walking on the cracked pavement. Then the door closes, as we take our first step towards independence. In middle school, our ages ranged from eleven to fourteen, with a few fourteen year olds, so must of us had barely left our childhood years behind. Now I am a true teenager, and I must learn to stand on my own two feet.

Ten minutes is a long time when you are worried, but it also flies, and what you're dreading seems to come quicker. We are now at the bus stop, and we sit on the cool plastic seat, the morning air cool against my cheek, but the sunshine promising better weather to come. I realise then that maybe the hoodie wasn't such a good idea. I don't want to look sweaty and disgusting as the day goes on. Looking on the bright side, at least there is no chance of me violating the dress code.

I watch all of the people around me, and start to wonder if the dress code isn't all that strict in my new school. I see a group of girls giggling, their faces caked with makeup, some of them with denim skirts above the knee, and some with tight-fitting tops. Maybe they're rebelling, I don't know. But in my old school, nobody would have gotten away with such revealing clothing, not that anybody tried to. The principal was a kindly but very strict man named Marcus Eaton, or Mr Eaton as we were told to call him. I have never been in his office for misbehaving, but those who were often left crying, and rarely saw the inside of it again.

The bus stops in front of us, and we hop on. Caleb and I sit together on the third row of seats towards the front, behind a boy with smooth brown skin. Once everyone is on, the engine rumbles and the bus drives off. The ride is quite bumpy, and Caleb's face is a little white, like he might be sick. He could never stomach uncomfortable car journeys, but thankfully we've never had problems with his motion sickness. Hopefully this won't be the first time, as he'll always be remembered as "the guy who puked on the bus on his first day", and I don't like the idea of him being humiliated.

"I don't feel great, Beatrice," he gasps.

"You okay?" The boy in front peeks over the top of the bus seat. "I have a plastic bag if you need one."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," I answer. "But thank you anyway."

"Hmm, okay." He smiles at me. "Are you starting high school too?"

"Uh huh."

"Nice. So am I." He holds out a hand for me to shake. "I'm Uriah."

"Beatrice." I hope I didn't shake too hard.

"Beatrice, huh? Nice name. Don't hear it a lot around here."

"Really? I don't like it that much."

"You don't? Hmm. Maybe you could get a nickname? Let me see... Bea?"

"No." I laugh a little.

"I don't know... Bee? Trissy? Tris?"

"Tris..." I mutter. I like the sound of it, though I'm sure he means it as a joke. Tris... It is better than Beatrice at any rate. "I'll think about that."

He nods, still smiling. He has a friendly face. He seems different from Susan and Robert, but somehow that makes him all the more likeable.

"So, is he your older brother?" Uriah asks, turning to Caleb. "What's his name?"

"Caleb."

"Oh! What grade is he in?"

"He's starting too."

"So you're twins?"

"No, he's less than a year older than me, so we're in the same grade."

"Ah. I've a brother here too. His name's Zeke. He's over there, see, at the back?"

My eyes fall on a boy, not unlike Uriah in appearance, laughing and joking and punching another guy on the arm.

"He's a bit of an idiot," Uriah says with a laugh, "but he's generally a nice guy. So Caleb. You okay now?"

"I... think so."

I glance at my brother. Some of the old colour is back, and he's not breathing as heavily.

"Hey look, there's our school!"

Uriah points at a rectangular grey building, smallish, and not very pretty to look at.

"I've been here a few times," Uriah continues on. "You know, school musicals and stuff. Zeke's actually a pretty good actor, as long as it involves being hilarious. I mean seriously... could you imagine him acting depressed?"

I take another look at Zeke behind me. No, I couldn't.

"See? Told you." The bus slows down, and stops right next to the school. Everyone grabs their bags and leaves, except for me and Caleb, who lets all the others out first. I am on the inside, so I can't go past my brother. I wonder how he can be so selfless all the time. In his position, I wouldn't even have thought about waiting til everyone was outside.

Uriah is standing by a nearby wall once we finally step off the bus, whistling the tune of a popular rap song that is played at least five times a day on the radio.

"Hey," he says. "I was just thinking. Do you know anyone on your bus?"

"No." Nobody from middle school is going to this high school.

"Yeah, I don't either, I mean I have Zeke, but he has his own friends, so... Anyway. Why don't we stick together on the bus? We could end up being _besties_!"

He wraps an arm around me and Caleb, and I tense up automatically. Excluding family, I am not used to boys giving me hugs. Especially guys I've known for less than half an hour.

"Not a hugger?" he asks. I'm not sure who he is referring to. Maybe it's both of us. He grins sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys uncomfortable. So, what do you say? Besties?"

We laugh. "Yeah. Besties."

"Nice!" He suddenly waves at two people in the distance. "Oh look, my friends are here! I'll just go talk to them. See you later!"

He runs off towards two girls, one with mouse coloured hair, the other almost bald. As he joins them, he turns around and winks at me. Once they're out of sight, Caleb nudges me with his elbow.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Looks like someone has an admirer," he smirks.

"Who? Uriah? No Caleb, I-"

"He was all over you on the bus, he barely even looked at me, Beatrice. And now he wants to spend time with you? Definitely something going on there."

I raise an eyebrow. "No. I'm sure he doesn't like me that way. Besides, he wants to be friends with both of us."

"Sure..." he drawls, but drops the subject. Uriah seems like a natural flirt to me, and I'm sure this is how he treats most girls his age. I like him, but the idea of going out with him isn't appealing, even if he is handsome.

We step inside the building, and examine our surroundings. It's not as crowded as I expected, not like the high schools I've seen in movies where there's a sea of students trying to find their way around, but even so, it is busier than middle school. The ceiling is quite low, so if a person happened to be extra tall, their head would only be a few inches below the top. Long, marine blue lockers are attached to the walls, with keyholes on the right side of each. The hallway itself is bland in design: if it wasn't for the brightly coloured posters and flyers advertising school clubs, secured to cork boards with thumb tacks, the atmosphere would be quite clinical and plain.

I feel so small among all of the teenagers, most of them older and taller than me, and I get a sudden urge to take Caleb's hand, like I used to do as a child. But I resist the impulse. The last thing I want is to be laughed at.

"Now what do we do?" Caleb asks, a worried look in his dark green eyes. "And how will we know where to go?"

I frown. I didn't think of that.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," I say.

"Yeah. I would say so."

It is a strange situation: me, the younger sibling, reassuring Caleb, my calm, rational brother, that everything will be alright. It is almost absurd. Just then, the bell rings.

"I think the best we can do is stay together, wait and see what happens."

We see some students stand by the wall in groups, confused ninth graders, like us. Some look around them, at the people next to them or in front of them. Others, like me, keep our eyes fixed on the ground. The crowds disappear, and we are the only ones left.

"What are we supposed to-"

I don't finish my sentence. A message is called out through the intercom, and we receive our answer.

"New, ninth grade students," a male voice speaks. "I am David Miller, the principal of this school. I am requesting that you all to make your way to Corridor 5, where you will find a notice board, with five lists of names. Once you have reached the notice board, you are being asked to search for your name. When you have found it, you must then look at the top of the page, where you will find the classroom you must go to. You should then make your way towards your assigned room, which wll be your homeroom from now on. Thank you."

This is undoubtedly the most complicated way for people to find their homeroom on a first day. I'm sure this isn't the best way to deal with newcomers, some of which are bound to get lost with this system. An assembly would have been a better, more organised way to do this. But I'm not the one in charge, so perhaps there is some logic behind this way, though I am having trouble seeing it.

Corridor 5... All of the signs on the classroom doors have the number five on them, followed by a letter, so I must be in the right place. We approach what I believe is the notice board, and sure enough, there are five white sheets of paper stuck to the board. Caleb and I are among the first people to reach it, which is just as well, as I would have been unable to see over everybody. I scan the lists, searching for the name "Beatrice Prior", until I find it on the last sheet. And my homeroom is in 2A. Caleb's name is nowhere to be found on this list. I'm not sure why I am disappointed. We're siblings, but they are still allowed to separate us.

The least they could have done was put us together for our first class...

Oh well. I turned fourteen recently, the least _I_ could do is act like it and stop being so childish.

Caleb and I share a look.

"Well," he sighs. "I guess here is where we go our own ways."

"Maybe we'll still be in a few classes together," I tell him. "We can check out each other's timetables at recess, right?"

I try to smile, but it comes out like a grimace. We hug quickly and suddenly, ignoring the wolf-whistles around us. A pair of strong arms pulls me away from Caleb. I turn around to see the person: he has shiny black hair, and a wide grin.

"Come on, time to say goodbye to your little boyfriend!" he smirks, followed by a few others. His voice is high, when compared to a lot of other boys his age.

Caleb clears his throat. "She's my sister."

The boy raises his eyebrows, his smirk vanishing as the laughs die down. Caleb and I don't look alike, which may explain why people thought we were together. Still, I can't help going red. I am not used to people noticing me, much less laughing at me. I wish I could be as cool about it as Caleb.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie as I shuffle down the corridors with some other students, looking for 2A. At least the school is well designed, and it is easy enough to find where we are supposed to go. All of us enter 2A, and we choose our seats. Most push past me, probably trying to be next to their friends, so by the time I get to see which places are vacant, only the front is available. I sigh, dump my bag on the floor and wait for the teacher to speak.

"Hi everyone," a middle aged man says once all of us are seated, and stop talking. "I'm your homeroom teacher and you can call me Max."

"But you're a teacher. Shouldn't we call you sir or something?"

I turn my head and see a pretty, dark-skinned girl with a questioning look on her face. I wait for a reprimand, a few sharp words from the teacher telling her to put her hand up or to wait until he has finished his welcome speech. But instead, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"Yeah, well, I'm a different kind of teacher. Anyway, as I was saying, welcome to your new school, I hope you enjoy this place as much as I did when I was your age, and that you'll make lots of new friends. Today I'll be giving you your timetables, I'll also be telling you how this place works-"

Three loud knocks on the door.

"Come in!"

A tall, muscular boy opens the door slowly, his eyes wide with terror, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Uhh, sorry I'm late," he stammers. "I got confused and lost my way, and-"

Multiple sniggers emerge from the back of the room, and the boy's face darkens in colour.

"That's fine. What's your name?"

"Al."

"Well Al, you can sit... over here." He taps the unoccupied desk next to me.

Al slumps in his seat, the only empty space in the classroom, and keeps his head down.

"Anyway, as I was saying, here are your timetables, locker numbers and maps of the building." He walks around the room, carelessly tossing a sheet of paper onto each desk. "I advise you to keep them and use them, unless you want to get lost like our friend Al here."

Al doesn't seem to enjoy the joke as much as some his fellow classmates, evident from his weak smile, a poor attempt at concealing his embarrassment. I feel some pity for this student. It mustn't be nice to humiliate yourself on a day when first impressions are important.

"So." Max slaps his hands on his thighs. "Now for the fun part. The rules. First off, dress code. You can wear anything you want as long as it's not too revealing. Like skirts well above the knee, and too-tight sleeveless tops, they're not allowed. Makeup's allowed, just not too much. No bullying, no smoking, no alcohol, no drugs. Phones off during class. Respect for teachers at all times. Look, you know this stuff already. If you want to know more about the rules or the school itself, just look up the school website, see?"

He writes the name of the website on the whiteboard, and most of us copy it onto a spare sheet of paper, or on the blank space next to out timetables.

"Now for the intros. Just your names, no need for anything else. You at the front. You're starting."

"I'm Will," a blond boy says, also sitting next to me.

"Okay. You?"

"I'm-"

I stop. The answer is obvious. I'm Beatrice Prior. Always have been, always will be. Nothing can change my first name.

Can't it, though?

I remember Robert's words: this is my chance to become a new person.

I remember Uriah's words: if I don't like my name, I can get a nickname instead.

"Today?"

I glance up at Max, and hear the soft tapping of his foot against the green carpeted floor. I hear some more snickers from the back row, and sit up a little straighter.

"My name is Beatrice Prior. But you can call me... Tris."

Max nods and smiles, moving on to Al. It isn't a big deal for Max: to him, I was just the shy girl who was afraid to speak up. But to me, it is an important moment, the first step to becoming a better version of myself, a version who doesn't let people walk all over me, someone who can choose my own friends, not ones my parents picked out for me.

Out of curiosity, I take a quick look behind me to see who is sitting at the back, who laughed at me and Al. One of them is the same boy who mocked me for hugging Caleb. His eyes are wide and innocent; he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would sneer at others on our first day, when we are all nervous and likely to mess up in some way. On either side of him sit a boy with bright orange hair, and a broad, tanned girl. All three of them are whispering in the way that only best friends would do, but it's obvious that the boy in the middle is the leader.

I daydream for the remainder of class time, and the bell rings just as the final person tells us his name. Tris. Tris Prior. I do my best not to smile as I walk out. This new name... I like it already.

"Tris!"

I turn around to see Uriah coming out of the room, with the girls I saw him talking to earlier.

"So you listened to my advice!" He slaps me on the back, a little too hard. "Okay, I feel really important now, Tris. I, Uriah Pedrad, gave Beatrice... what was your last name again?"

"Prior."

"I, Uriah Pedrad, gave Beatrice Prior, one of my current new besties, the super cool nickname of Tris! Now that's something to be proud of, don't you think?"

One of the girls smirk at his comment. I didn't know Uriah was with me in homeroom. I must have been in really deep thought for me to miss that.

"Anyway, I'd better introduce you to my friends. Tris, these are my friends Marlene and Lynn. Lynn and Marlene, this is Tris. We take the bus together. So Tris, what do you have next?"

"I..." I take out my timetable from my pocket and unfold it. "I've math."

"Oh? We've English. Oh well. See you, Tris."

"Bye."

I head for 4C, my math room, and this time I'm one of the first, so I head towards the back row. After I get my pencil case out of my bag and place it on my desk, I notice a tall boy at the front of the room, speaking to the teacher. His back is halfway turned, so I am unable to see his face, though his hair is short and dark, and his arm muscles are visible.

"Silence," the teacher says loudly, and everyone obeys. "I am Miss James, your math teacher. I'm sure you'll de disappointed to hear that we won't be doing any work today, but rather, you'll get a tour of the school for the next forty minutes." She gestures towards the boy standing next to her, who is now facing us. "One eleventh grader has kindly volunteered to show you new students around. Everyone, meet Tobias."

* * *

 **I hope I cut this off at the right time! I thought it'd create more suspense if I cut it off here and did the rest of the first day in the next chapter. Oh, and by the way, Tobias is sixteen, and Tris is fourteen. In real life this type of age gap _can_ be controversial, so of course I'm going to make their relationship blossom realistically. A two year age gap can be quite big when you're only fourteen. I'd love to know what you think, so please leave a review! I'll answer all comments personally in the next A/N. **


	3. Tobias

**Second chapter up! Enjoy! And by the way, all middle schools mentioned are made up: if there's a real-life middle school with any of the names here, it is pure coincidence.**

 **Charms22:** **Well, this chapter is the start of it all! (though the actual romance will be eventual, not instantaneous.) Thanks for reviewing!**

 **biancalovestoread:** **Then suffer no more! Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this chapter!**

 **Wrenlovesreading: You're spot on with why I chose the title _Butterfly_! Also this chapter will be the first of Tris and Tobias's many interactions (yay!). I won't do too many interactions at first (though there will be a few), but there is a future chapter that will speed up their relationship greatly. And finally, I've never had a writer's block for longer than two months, and it's 99 percent likely that I won't delete this, so you won't have to worry. I myself have experienced that once: before I got an account I read a fantastic, unwritten fic. After signed up here I googled it so I could favourite it, and... it was deleted. And it was painful. Okay, this response was way too long! Thanks for both reviews!**

 **Thanks to kaisha1992, citizensg1 and TheYAFictionFan for following, and ellieeaton46, Wrenlovesreading and Soccergirlb for following and favouriting!**

* * *

Silence.

I believe this is when we are supposed to greet this Tobias guy, but he doesn't seem like somebody you would exchange pleasantries with. In fact, he doesn't seem like someone you would feel comfortable with at all if you weren't his friend - if he even has any. He is handsome, but that is not the first thing I notice about him. He has a guarded, stand-offish manner, evident even from the back of the room.

After an awkward pause, Miss James continues with her speech.

"Well... class, you may stand up and follow Tobias." She nods at him, and all of us start to file out of the classroom. Once we're out in the corridor, I walk a little too quickly, and trip over the hem of my long tracksuit pants. I am on the floor, and everyone turns around to look at me.

And again, those snickers.

"She's definitely brain dead," a female voice says. I look up - as I thought, it belongs to that broad girl in homeroom. "Remember when she couldn't even say what her name was?"

"Oh, I don't know, Molly. Maybe she's just nervous." My gaze falls on the dark haired boy, and I expect to see a smirk, but his eyebrows are drawn up in concern, and he holds out a hand with a kind smile. "Here, let me help you."

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. On one hand I don't trust him, and anyway I can pick myself up without anybody's help, but maybe his teasing was good-natured, and Mom did tell me that people deserve second chances. I extend my own hand tentatively, just as he pulls his back.

"Ha ha. Too slow." All three of them laugh, an unpleasant mix of snorts and chortles and titters.

Tobias doesn't kneel down to help me, just stares at me with a neutral expression as I lift myself up, my cheeks red with humiliation. Once I'm on my feet, he turns his head towards the boy.

"You." Tobias walks up to him.

"Yeah?"

Tobias puts his face close to his. He isn't much taller than the boy, but the look in his eyes is enough to make him turn red too.

"First off, keep your voice down. There are classes going on. Second, that's pretty sad. Teasing one of your new classmates like that."

"It was just a joke-" The words die down as soon as they came out, however, as Tobias's glare turns darker, a warning. I feel a stab of triumph, and as the boy mutters something which sounds like "You're not my dad," I throw him a look of gratitude.

Once we're outside, Tobias stops us, and raises his voice.

"First of all, welcome to your new school. It can get confusing around here for the first month, so I suggest you listen and keep your eyes open. For now I'll be showing you the outside of the school. Once we're finished, I'll show you the inside. Any objections?" We shake our heads. "No? Good. For now, I'll show you the P.E. courts. Follow me."

"Are you okay?"

I turn around. A girl I recognise from homeroom has a worried look on her face.

"Of course." I smile.

"Your name's Tris, right?"

"Yes."

"Cool name. Mine's Christina."

"Oh. Hi Christina."

Two boys approach us, both of which happen to be the same people I was sitting next to this morning. One is Al, the other is... Bill? No, Will.

"You okay?" Al asks. It was only a little fall. Do I look that fragile?

Well, I suppose I do.

"Yes. I'm okay."

"My name's Al," he says with a shy smile as we carry on walking. "But I think you know that already."

"Yeah, I mean that must have been really embarrassing. I would have died in your position," Christina says. "How the heck did you get lost? Okay, it's a fairly big place, but it's not that big." It's a harsh thing to say, but I don't think she realises it. She says it like it is an innocent question, like she honestly wants to know how he got lost.

Al shrugs next to me, but his face is redder than before.

"Lots of people get lost on their first day," I say. "Tripping over my own pants is way more embarrassing."

He smiles a little, and I know I said the right thing.

"And you're... Will?" I ask.

"You got it."

All of us smile at each other, then break eye contact. We don't know each other very well, after all.

"Anyway," Christina says after a pause, "you shouldn't listen to anything Peter says. Same goes for Molly and Drew."

"Who?"

"Peter? The guy who laughed at you when you fell? The black-haired one, I mean. Peter and his little minions went to elementary school with me, and middle school. He is evil, Tris. Pure evil."

"What do you mean?"

"Back in elementary, he'd pick fights with some of the other students. Then, when a teacher came to break it up, he'd do this." She widens her eyes, points at Will, sniffles and speaks in a high pitched, little-boy voice. "Miss, he started it, boo hoo hoo, I didn't mean it miss, poor innocent precious me, I wouldn't hurt a fly, it's all his fault..."

I laugh at her impression. "Did he actually do that?"

"Obviously not in those exact words, but yeah, pretty much. Made me want to puke all over him. That trick didn't work in middle school, lucky for us. He actually got suspended last year for bullying. Molly and Drew were involved too, but Peter's the one you have to watch out for."

I had better keep out of Peter's way, if that's the case - though he seems to have his eye on me already.

"Okay, new students," Tobias calls out over all the chattering. We look in front of us to see two playing courts. He points to the one on the left once everyone is quiet.

"This one's the tennis court."

"Wow, I didn't know that." Christina titters next to me. "It's not like there's a net in the middle or anything."

Tobias ignores her and points to the court on the right. "This one's for pretty much every other sport your P.E. teachers want you to play. Sometimes if the weather's good you'll be doing P.E. out here instead of inside. There's nothing much else to show you out here, so I'll take you back inside. Obviously you're allowed to walk around the school during your breaks, unless it's raining, in which case you'll stay in the building, just not in the corridors. Never linger in the corridors for too long, unless you need to. But I'm sure you know that from middle school. Now follow me."

I remember the teachers' constant warnings for us not to stay in the corridors if we had no reason to be there. Not many disobeyed, but those who did received a ten minute long lecture.

Just as we reach the door, Tobias turns around and stops us.

"From now on, kids-"

"Kids?" Christina splutters with laughter. "What age do you think we are?"

This time he doesn't ignore her. He throws a long, menacing look in her direction, enough to silence her, for now.

"Anyway," he says, still glaring at Christina, "as I was saying before I was interrupted, there is no talking from now on. The only person talking, is me. There are classes going on, remember. You don't want to be in trouble on your first day, and neither do I. Got it?"

We nod as we return to the building, shoes squeaking on the floor, people whispering discreetly, watching Tobias in case he can see them. In the space of a few minutes, it is clear to everyone that Tobias is not someone to be messed with.

Well, everyone except Christina.

"Tobias," she asks in a loud whisper, causing him to turn around. "Do you work out a lot?"

After a long, painful silence, he sighs heavily.

"What's your name?"

"Christina?"

"Christina." He speaks in a low tone, looking right into her eyes. Everyone stares, including me, waiting to see what will happen next.

"Y-yeah?"

"When the heck are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?"

"But I was just asking if you work out a lot! You look like someone who does, I mean, those muscles, I have to say-"

"Christina. What did I say less than five minutes ago?"

"Be quiet?"

"Ah. I see your memory is fairly good. Now if only you could keep your mouth shut like I told you to, you and I won't have any problems. Understand?"

"I-I understand."

"Good. And keep your voice down in future. The whole school probably heard you there."

Christina's face is slightly redder than usual as we follow Tobias once more. It's incredible how he can silence even the most outspoken people. Tobias shows us all of the corridors, from one to six. Suddenly, a thought strikes me. Maybe it's a stupid question, and I might be taking a chance, but I'm curious.

"Tobias," I say in a low voice.

"Hmm?"

"Are we the only class getting a tour? Where's everyone else?"

"Name?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Tris."

"Tris..." He shakes his head, laughing but not laughing, a humourless smile on his face. "Are you kidding?"

I shake my head.

"No? Are you deaf?"

I feel myself blushing, but hold my gaze. "No."

"Then tell me, why... you just heard me tell her, what's her name, Christina, to shut up. And now..." His smile turns questioning, an attempt to look intimidating. "You too?"

It doesn't work. I won't let it work.

It occurs to me that I _shouldn't_ be afraid of a guy only two years older than me, one who discourages and squashes any questions asked by insulting us. I wasn't saying anything flippant or irrelevant like Christina. I don't deserve to be put down this way in front of everyone.

"It was only a question," I say quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm curious. I asked if everyone was getting a tour. I only wanted a yes or no. Anyway, it kind of defeats the purpose of a tour if new students feel they can't ask anything."

Everyone's eyes are on me now, including Tobias's. His mouth is slightly agape, but the rest of his face is blank. Just as the silence starts to feel uncomfortable, he sighs, and I can't be sure, but I think he's smiling a little, only a little.

"... What's your name again?"

"Tris."

"Okay. All five tours start at different parts of the school, Tris. It's just to avoid clashing between two classes, if possible. I hope that answers your question."

I nod. He sounds almost gentle now, a different person from the boy I challenged a few seconds ago. Then I recall how he stood up for me when I fell, how he death stared Peter, and I wonder if Tobias is really as tough as he seems.

Al, Will and Christina gawp at me as if they can't believe their eyes.

"How did you get away with that?" she whispers. I shrug, as Tobias shows us the canteen, the indoor sports halls, the changing rooms, where the principal's office is, the bathrooms, everything I expected to see in a high school. Soon the tour is over, just in time for next class, which for me is biology. After that class, the bell rings for recess.

I have fifteen minutes to do whatever I want. I head towards where my locker should be, according to the number I got in homeroom, place my bag on the ground, and start to unpack. Thank goodness I won't have to carry the equivalent of ten kilos on my back anymore. I look at the girl next to me, doing the same with her own books. I recognise her as Peter's friend, Molly. Just my luck.

"What are you staring at, klutz?" she says.

I turn red and grab my school bag, ignoring her. Christina seems to be the closest to a new friend, or Uriah, but they are nowhere to be found among all of the students in the corridor. The same goes for Al and Will, and my brother. Maybe they're hanging out in the canteen. I decide to go and check. I take out my school map, and from it I try to work out where it is. The tour around the school helped, but not as much as it should have.

Eventually I find the canteen, where a multitude of students sit at long tables, chatting and joking and eating and laughing. Once again, I feel small and insignificant.

Then I spot him. Caleb, sitting with a small group of people, pointing at a page on an open textbook in front of him. I'm confused: surely they don't have a test on their first week. He doesn't see me, and I don't approach him, despite our promises to check out each other's timetables. I don't want to hinder him from making new friends, and neither do I want to be known as "Caleb's annoying little sister" by his new buddies.

"There you are, Tris!"

I turn my head. Christina, Al and Will smile at me, and Al pats the seat next to him.

"We saved you a seat," Will says. "We tried looking for you, but we couldn't find you."

"I was at my locker," I explain, sitting down. "My bag was heavy."

"Same with me," Christina says. "Al the Macho Man here doesn't seem to think so though, do you?"

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm so strong!" he grins.

"Cocky much?"

"Look who's talking," Will smirks.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, a minute ago you were the one bragging about that one spelling contest you won in elementary school, Christina."

"That's because you were showing off about all the prizes you got for school science projects!"

Al and I share a look as Christina and Will continue to bicker.

"Anyway," Christina laughs, once she is finished with Will, "that was pretty hilarious when you stood up to Tobias, Tris."

"It... it was?"

"Are you serious?" Will says. "Everyone was talking about it afterwards. I mean, this is the person who was able to shut Christina up." He looks at Christina, who returns his smirk with a scowl. "To be honest I thought he was going to explode and shout at you. You could almost cut the air with a knife, there was that much tension. It was quite entertaining."

"Look at you, with your big fancy words and sentences," Christina mutters, wrinkling her nose.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"You basically called me smart in an indirect way, and smart is a compliment, last time I checked."

"Not always. It depends on the context, smarty pants."

Will laughs. "Is that the best "insult" you can think of? Smarty pants? I mean Christina, that's still a compliment."

"You've spent the last five minutes debating whether "smart" is a compliment or an insult," Al remarks.

"Well I was on the debating team in my old school," Christina says. "My team always won those too, Will."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Yeah, you are. Anyway, Tris. What middle school did you go to?"

"Abraham Eaton Middle School."

"Hmm... I've heard of that place. It's supposed to be really strict. Was it?"

I shrug my shoulders. I suppose it was, but I didn't really mind since I was rarely in trouble.

"And I know where you went, Will..." Christina carries on. "Tell me, do you know anyone around here?"

"A few," he says. "But I'm not really friends with any of them."

"Hmm. Al? I could have sworn I'd seen you before when you walked in this morning."

"Graham Williams Middle School."

Christina widens her eyes. "Hey, I went there too! I knew that I knew your face from somewhere!"

"Oh."

"Do you know me?"

"Umm..." Al narrows his eyes. "Can't say I do. Sorry."

"Am I that forgettable?"

"I hardly knew anyone back in my old school, Christina. You said you knew that guy Peter, right?"

"Yeah?"

He smiles a little and shakes his head. "I didn't even know a guy called Peter got suspended. I've no idea who he is."

Christina looks confused. "Were you asleep for two years?"

"Pretty much. Especially when I had math first thing."

He rolls his eyes, and all of us laugh. I don't know much about these people, but I already like them more than Susan and Robert. They're fun, they're not afraid to offend each other with their teasing. They make me laugh; Susan in particular was always too serious.

The bell rings again, and we head for our classes. Mine is P.E., and, as it turns out, so is Will's and Al's.

I hope we'll just be talking for our first P.E. class. I was never much good at the subject.

* * *

Nothing else happens for the rest of the day, at least nothing interesting. It is just as well, since I have had more excitement today than I've had in both middle school years combined. New friends with different personalities, potential enemies, drawing attention to myself, standing up to a scary eleventh grader... I'm really not Beatrice anymore. Beatrice was a quiet, meek pushover who blended in with the shadows. Tris is a girl who can stick up for herself and make friends without much effort.

Well, maybe I'm still a little quiet. Like now, as I stare out the window instead of talking to Uriah or Caleb.

After a while, I turn to Caleb.

"Do you feel okay?" I ask.

He nods. Since we have gotten on the bus this evening, he has been acting distant. I may as well be a stranger, a random person he doesn't know sitting next to him. That is why I decided to look out the window: trying to talk to Caleb felt awkward, somehow. Maybe he doesn't want me to tag along with him now that he has new friends.

I can see Uriah's reflection on the glass in front of me. He is wearing headphones, attached to his phone, and is bobbing his head in time with a song, presumably something upbeat. I sigh. I could do with someone to talk to now that Caleb is cold-shouldering me. I could also do with a phone to distract myself, but I left it at home, and it's not a smartphone anyway, it's one of those old phones with numbered buttons and the only thing I can do with it is call and text, and play snake and the different ringtones if I am very bored.

The bus comes to a halt, and those who get off at this stop exit the vehicle. Again, Caleb waits for everybody else to leave. Although I enjoy looking out the window, watching as the cars go by and the scenery zooms past us, I should consider sitting on the seat closest to the aisle in future.

Once we are outside I deliberately pick up the pace. I don't need my brother, not really. If he's not going to bother talking to me about his day, I'm not going to speak to him either.

"Beatrice."

No.

"Beatrice, slow down. Beatrice?"

I whirl around to face him. "What?"

"What's wrong?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You tell me what's wrong. You're the one acting weird, not me."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. Not talking to me at all today. I think that's pretty weird. Don't you?"

"Look Beatrice, I... I had a long day, okay? I had a long day and I'm tired. Look, I'll talk to you now. Beatrice?"

I sigh. "Okay then."

Caleb falls into a step by my side.

"So? How did your day go, Caleb?"

"It was okay. Nothing special. Made a few friends... that's about it. How about you?"

 _I changed my name to something cooler and I made three new friends excluding Uriah and I back-talked a tough eleventh grader and got away with it and apparently everyone was talking about me._

"Oh, you know. Same as you. Typical first day." I don't want to sound arrogant, so I don't tell him what exactly what happened, though in my heart, I am proud of what I achieved today. My parents discourage pride - they say it leads us to do other bad things. I guess wanting to show off to my brother is one of those things.

"I heard you gave sass to the guy who was showing you around the school," he says.

Oh, so he knows already.

"Yeah," I say, looking down. I hope this doesn't get back to Mom and Dad. They wouldn't be very pleased with me. I glance up again, expecting to see _that look_ on his face, the one he employs when I do wrong, the one that makes my insides twist with guilt.

Instead, he wears a small smile.

"I'm surprised. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Oh. Well... do me a favour and don't tell Mom and Dad, okay?"

"I won't. I also heard that this guy acts kind of tough but he let you off with it, for some reason. I suppose that's why some of my friends were making a big deal out of it. But... why were some of them calling you Tris? I wouldn't have known it was you, but one of them called you Beatrice, then said that you call yourself Tris. Is this some kind of a joke?"

"It's my new nickname. I have Uriah to thank for that. Weren't you listening on the bus?"

"Sort of. I was very sick, you know. It wasn't even the bus, I think I was mostly nervous. But Beatrice... I don't think I can call you Tris after fourteen years. I hope you're fine with that."

"It's okay." I thought he wouldn't understand. I suppose I'll still be Beatrice as far as my parents and brother are concerned. Oh well.

We reach our house, and I knock on the door four times.

"Beatrice, Caleb," Mom greets, giving each of us a hug. "Tell me. How was your day?"

I grin. I have a feeling I'm going to like this high school a lot.

* * *

 **So at the moment, Tris is just mildly interested in Tobias (if even). Of course that'll change over the course of the story - I'm going for a slow build up here. Please review! Constructive criticism is also welcome.**


	4. Target

**I don't like sport very much, so I hope this chapter is okay.**

 **Charms22:** **Glad you enjoyed the last chapter and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **I'm glad you don't mind the age gap between Tris and Tobias - I was afraid it would be controversial, but I thought it would be a nice challenge to put him in eleventh grade, rather than in Tris's year. Also, if I delete this story there would have to be a very, very good reason, so it's very unlikely. Thank you for your review!**

 **Thanks to i. heart. fourtris. div (sorry I had to space your username out, ffnet wouldn't let me have it all together), xXDidie95Xx and CharlieeLarryne for following, Lightworm for Life and dudeurcool789 for following and favouriting, and firanka2 and Novadebles for favouriting!**

* * *

I have a bad feeling about this P.E. class.

My first week at school went reasonably well: I'm officially part of a friend group consisting of me, Christina, Al and Will, Uriah put me in a good mood every morning with his jokes, and there were no major mishaps. Caleb is still a little colder than usual, but I can deal with that. Truth is, I need him a lot less than I thought I would.

But no good can come out of P.E.

Back in middle school, Physical Education was my worst subject. In fact, there was only one person worse than me, and that was Caleb. But Caleb isn't in my P.E. class this year, so I'm bound to become the easy target in games like dodgeball, the way it was in my old school, the only time people bothered to notice me.

My shorts are huge and boyish, my t-shirt is twice the size of my waist and my runners are old and falling apart at the soles. My ill-fitting clothes almost hint at what's going to happen in the next eighty minutes. I have to try anyway - not trying got me nowhere in middle school - but that doesn't change the fact that I am useless at this subject.

My hair is in a low ponytail today. Peter and his friends thought that yanking my hair out of its knot was _so_ hilarious during the past week, so I'm making sure it doesn't happen again. It feels strange having so much hair on my back, but I like it, I think - it's less severe than my old style.

I leave the locker room, and Will and Al are already standing there, waiting for the teacher to begin class. The teacher rolls out a trolley from the storage room, filled to the brim with sage green balls. So it's dodgeball. I sigh.

Peter and Molly are there too, wearing their trademark smirks.

"You're such a prude," Molly sneers. "You know Peter, she couldn't get dressed in front of the other girls. She hid in the bathrooms so no one could see her skinny body. As if anyone cares what she looks like. How sad is that?"

"But what do you have to hide?" Peter asks. "You only look about ten. Are you sure you didn't get lost on your way to elementary school?"

I feel anger coursing through my veins. If I didn't know better, if I knew Peter and Molly didn't have a chance against me, I would punch them, I would, I'd punch them right in the face again and again and again, and-

"Come on Tris." Will puts his arms on my shoulders, guiding me away from the pair. "They're not worth your time."

"Did you even hear what they said to me?" I say, getting angrier by the second. "They said I looked ten. They said-"

"Tris." He looks right into my eyes, speaking in low tones. "Ignore them, okay? Don't let them see that they got to you. They just want a reaction. Don't give them what they want."

"You don't even look ten, Tris," Al says. "I think you look - you look your age. I mean it. I..." He turns his head away, scratching the back of his neck. I'm not sure whether I should take it as a compliment. I know he means it in a nice way, but somehow, I feel offended. I feel like a child, and he's trying to convince me that I'm not a baby, that I'm a big girl. Being small has so many disadvantages. People will always see me as weak, needing to be protected.

I'm still very annoyed with Molly. I don't like exposing my body, so I got dressed in one of the toilet cubicles in the changing room, rather than taking off my clothes in front of the other girls. But at the same time, I know that it's Peter who is instigating all of the teasing. He is the one I need to show that I am not as fragile as I seem.

"Class!" The P.E. teacher blows her whistle, its piercing sound echoing in the hall. "Everyone line up and jog! After jogging we'll play some dodgeball."

As if I need reminding.

Once we're finished, the teacher organises us into teams. Molly and Drew are two of my opponents. I am determined not to do badly in front of them.

Easier said than done.

I aim specifically for Peter, ignoring even Molly, but I miss. Again. And again. And again. Peter eventually notices my failed attempts at hitting him, and smirks.

"Look, _kid_ ," he calls out. "This is how you play dodgeball." His ball lands neatly on my leg, despite me trying to avoid it. "See? Is that too hard for your little arms?"

I scowl as I am now out, but I am not done yet. I will wait for my chance.

Once our team loses we start another game, and I know exactly what to do, even though I'm aware I'll be out for the rest of this game, too. I'd rather not have to play, anyway.

When I grab my ball, my eyes dart around the hall, as if searching for the right person. Peter isn't focused on me; it only takes a split second for me to run as close as I can without stepping over the line, and hurl the ball right at his face, full force. He rubs his nose, staring at me with eyes so wide they look as if they might pop out. As for me, I feel triumph, nothing but pure triumph. I'm out, but as I walk away, I can't resist a comment.

"Still think I've bad aim, Peter?" I laugh, loudly, so everyone hears. The people who saw what happened laugh with me. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, but no words come out. I only laugh harder when a second ball hits his stomach, which means he's also out. The teacher gives me a reprimand, but nothing serious.

The minute class is over, I head for the changing room, but right before I enter, I feel a sudden pain in my left arm, a pinch.

Peter.

"You're going to regret that, Tris," he says quietly, a dangerous glint in his green eyes. "I don't go easy on people who humiliate me in front of everyone."

He twists my skin sharply, causing me to cry out. Then he lets go, storming off into the boys' changing room.

I feel uneasy. Something tells me that Peter would make a bad enemy.

* * *

 **Not my favourite chapter, to be honest. I hope I was accurate when I wrote about the game - I kept it vague, to avoid making unnecessary errors. Next chapter is better, I promise. Please review!**


	5. Lunch Break with the Eleventh Graders

**Tobias is back! Yay!**

 **Charms22: Yeah, I don't want Tris to be afraid of Peter just yet. And I'm glad you like the age gap! I thought it'd be more interesting, more of a challenge. Thank you for reviewing!**

 **WriterGirl001: They'll get gradually closer throughout the story. It'll be slightly slow at first, but their relationship will speed up after a few chapters. I'm so glad you liked it and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading: Yeah, I think Peter is a bit of a brat sometimes (more so in the movie). Peter may be my "favourite" character, but I don't like him and he's done a lot of evil, I just think he's the most intriguing and I want to know why he does what he does (like, is it something from childhood, or is it just in him). And yes, he does deserve the brick! On a different note, I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who hates sports! Thanks for the review!**

* * *

Week two, day ten. A typical day, and also a boring day. Friday isn't that great for me, since there isn't any nice subjects on my timetable.

I dig a fork into my dinner in front of me, scrambled eggs and rice and salad. Nothing special, but much better than the meals we got at my middle school, which were barely fit for consumption. They were so disgusting, I often had to bring in my own lunch and eat that instead.

Across from me, Christina toys with her eggs, wrinkling her nose with disgust.

"This is gross," she says. "How do you eat this stuff, Tris?"

"Hey, I like scrambled eggs!"

"I agree with Christina for once," Will smirks, "but at least they're nutritional."

"So are boiled eggs. Why can't they make them like that? This looks like - I don't know. Yellow baby food. Or puke."

"We're eating, Christina," Al says, putting down his fork for a second.

"Oops! Sorry. I get carried away sometimes."

"That's true, Christina. You know what I'd call you? A person with no filter."

Christina glares at Will, and they start to play-argue, as usual. Al and I glance at each other, smiling and shaking our heads at them. And it's still an average day. Apart from permanently swapping my usual hairstyle for a ponytail, this is nothing new.

Until _he_ sits to me.

The canteen is almost full, which explains why three eleventh graders would sit next to four insignificant new students. One boy - Zeke, I think - has his arm around a short-haired girl, and both drop their trays, sitting next to each other. And Tobias - Tobias, who showed us around, Tobias, who I "gave sass" to, as Caleb put it - sits right next to me. My friends give him a look, then me, but carry on eating. I guess it's old news by now.

"What do you have next?" I ask them, in an effort to act casual. Sitting next to Tobias makes me more nervous than it should, and I've a nagging feeling that it's not just because of his age. "I know you've geography with me, Will," I add. "How about you, Al? Christina?"

"English."

"History. What do you think of history, Tris? I think it's boring."

"Really? I like it."

"Tris?" Zeke grins at me. "You're the famous Tris?"

I'm about to ask him what does he mean and how does he know who I am, until the girl next to him speaks.

"Tobias told us all about you!" she smiles. She holds out a hand across the table for me to shake. "I'm Shauna, by the way."

"I'm Tris." A stupid response, considering they already know my name. And I really hope I didn't shake too hard.

"And this is Zeke," she continues, confirming my guess earlier, "and this is Tobias, but you know that already, don't you?"

I laugh uneasily. Tobias glares at his friends, then begins to eat his eggs, barely acknowledging me as Zeke and Shauna return to their own conversation. I turn away and go back to finishing my meal, ignoring my friends' stares.

"Wow, Tris," Christina says quietly. "I didn't think you were so popular."

I detect a note of jealousy in her voice, but I ignore the comment. I'm not popular with the eleventh graders. I just did something that apparently not a lot of new students would do, and that somehow got me noticed. I only stood up for myself.

But why would Tobias want to talk about me in the first place?

The question enters my mind unbidden. I feel flattered at first, then a doubt sets in. He was likely laughing at me. Silly little girl Tris, thinking she's so mature, so incredible for back-talking him. Perhaps that's why he smiled after I spoke my mind that time: I was just a stupid young teenager in his eyes, seeking attention from my peers.

I feel a bit sick at the thought. I eye my scrambled eggs, and see some truth in what Christina said. It does look like vomit, if you think about it. Yellow, sludgy vomit. Not the most appetising food if you feel ill, like now.

"I'm not that hungry anymore," I mutter, taking my tray away. I don't look back, don't want to see the questioning expressions on my friends' faces, don't want to see Tobias ever again.

They probably all think I'm weird. Tobias definitely thinks I'm weird. But I can't help myself. I turn my head, just for a second, and...

Tobias is staring at me. Expressionless, unreadable. But staring at me. And as for me, my face feels warmer than usual.

* * *

 **This chapter was short, I promise they'll get long again after this. Hope you enjoyed it and please review!**


	6. Homework and Tests

**I know** ** _Homework and Tests_** **doesn't sound like a very exciting chapter, but it's better than it sounds. Also, it's necessary for relationship and character development, and it kind of leads onto other events in this story. Also I mention a story title generator in this chapter. I'm aware that they exist on the internet, but I made this one up. Because I'm paranoid and I don't want to get into trouble for copyright, the site in this story is entirely generic and made up - if it has any resemblance to a real title generator, it's a coincidence.  
On another note, I hope I didn't spoil scrambled eggs for anyone in the last chapter XD! Enjoy!**

 **Charms22: Yeah, before Zeke was barely mentioned by Uriah, and now Tris ended up meeting him properly. So glad you like it!**

 **Wrenlovesreading: I'm the same when it comes to romance (as long as it's fictional). Thanks for reviewing!**

 **biancalovestoread: I'm glad you liked their reactions and the story in general! Thanks for all the reviews!**

 **Thanks to mony, sunlightstars and biancalovestoread for following and favouriting, and Love the Brightest Star and JodiCatherine for following!**

* * *

We do our homework at the kitchen table, Caleb and I.

My left elbow leans on the table, a hand on my head, while my right hand solves all of the math problems in front of me. I'm almost finished my written work, but I still have to study for an upcoming geography test that I did no revision for, and while I'm in no mood to do any more learning, it might be a good idea to do well in my first test. First impressions count, after all.

My lack of interest is one of the main differences between me and my brother. If I decide to study, I can do almost as well as Caleb. There have been times in the past when I was a few points off his results, if we happened to be in the same class. In general, though, I don't have enough motivation, and it tends to reflect on my grades. Caleb, on the other hand, will always try his best, and he'll always get an A.

I look across at him. His brow is furrowed with concentration, and he sighs heavily.

"Beatrice," he says. "Can you give me any ideas for writing a story? I'm a little stuck here."

"I'm not the best at that kind of thing," I answer. "What does it have to be about?"

"She didn't give us a theme. At least I've a few days to do this..."

"So no theme at all? You're supposed to just come up with something?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's to do with world building. We're supposed to create the general outline of a world for a story we're writing in two weeks time. Next week we'll be focusing on character development, we'll have to create a main character for the story. So, Beatrice? Any ideas?"

I think about it. We're doing the same thing in my English class, except we're doing the work at school, not at home.

"Well if it helps, I wrote about-"

"They'll know I copied you."

"How will they know if we've different teachers?"

"Please Beatrice, something else, something you didn't write about already. Please."

"Caleb... you know what? I think we should borrow Mom's laptop."

"You need a laptop just to think of an idea?"

"I don't. But you do. Mom?"

"Yes?" Mom shouts from upstairs.

"Can we borrow your laptop?"

"Of course, just put it back when you're done, okay?"

"Okay Mom."

I take the device from the couch in the sitting room, and place it on the kitchen table. Once it's started up I type in "story title generator" into the search bar and click Enter. I select one of the first results, and click on the "generate title" button once the site is finished loading.

"Caleb? Do you have a spare page to write these down on?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. "Fairy Land"."

Caleb snorts.

""Utopia". Umm... "Love is in the air". Want me to keep going?"

"Okay, I think "Fairy Land" and "Love is in the air" are out of question..."

"What about "Utopia"?"

He puts a finger on his chin and raises his eyebrows. "That one seems interesting... I think I can manage it. Thank you, Beatrice."

I smile and shut down the laptop, not forgetting to put it back in its original location. Now for my own work...

* * *

I can hardly open my eyes the next morning.

I stupidly stayed up until two in the morning trying to cram in all of the information I should have been revising all along. They say you're more likely to learn in the morning than late at night, something I really should have listened to. This wasn't smart of me at all. And worse still, I have geography straight after homeroom, so I can only pray that there won't be that many announcements. Max lets us catch up on work or study if he has nothing left to say, and I could do with that extra time.

Despite all the water I splash on my face, I still look exhausted. I close my eyes as soon as I'm on the bus, but Caleb nudges me hard in the ribs after a minute or so.

"Caleb, you have to stop doing that," I say crossly.

"I was just trying to help!"

I yawn. "It would be a great help if you could just let me sleep."

He licks his lips, choosing his next words carefully. "Umm, Beatrice? I hate to tell you this, but you... you snore."

"I don't snore!"

"Not all the time. But sometimes."

"How do you know that anyway?"

"Long car journeys. And I don't think you want to snore on a bus full of people you know. Hey, what's that face for? You should be thanking me."

In that case, I'd better avoid going to sleepovers.

"Thank you Caleb."

"You're welcome. Anyway, I have the general plan for the world of my story written out. Want to see it?"

I don't, but he looks so enthusiastic I don't have the heart to say so.

"Show me."

He reaches inside his bag and pulls out a copy book. He flicks through a few pages, and shows me what appears to be a mind map, with "Chicago" written in the centre.

"I worked until eleven trying to do this," he says proudly. "So, this story is going to take place in Chicago, sometime in the future."

"Yeah?"

"And look, the people in this city are divided into factions, five factions, kind of like categories based on virtues."

"I'm listening."

"The first faction, as you can see, is called Amity. They're kind, peaceful people and they wear red and yellow. The second is Candor; they value honesty. They wear black and white because that's how they perceive the truth. Next comes Erudite-"

"Wait. Did you make up these names? Or are they real?"

"Oh no, they're real." I narrow my eyes. I've never heard of those words in my life. Caleb sighs, and continues. "You can look them up in the dictionary if you don't believe me. I didn't just want to call them "Honest", or "Smart", you see, I wanted them to sound cool and creative. Anyway, the Erudite wear blue, and they're the smart ones. The Abnegation are selfless and reject all forms of vanity and self-indulgence - they have to wear grey. And finally, the Dauntless, the brave, the ones who wear black. They jump off trains, have tattoos and know how to use guns. They're fearless. This is the faction I've developed the most at the moment, but I'll work more on the others later.

"Now here's where it gets interesting. Every sixteen year old has to take part in a Choosing Ceremony. First they go through the aptitude test which tells them where they belong. Then at the ceremony, the person can choose to stay in their current faction, or change. Then comes the initiation process which you must go through before becoming a member. If you don't pass, you become factionless and don't belong anywhere, basically like the homeless.

"And then there's the Divergent. Most fit into two factions, but some fit into one and a rare few fit into three. They're the threats to the society because they think differently, and they could get killed if their Divergence is discovered."

"Wait, hold on a second," I interrupt. "So you get killed if you've more than one trait or if you're a little different. Are you sure this is a utopia? Don't you think it sounds like a kind of mind control?"

"Beatrice... It's only a story, okay? I kind of strayed from the theme of "Utopia" to make it more interesting. Besides, while I hate the idea of people getting killed because they're different, I do think the factions would work in real life."

I shrug and turn away, trying to picture a divided world, everyone conditioned to behave and think a certain way. Sounds more like a dystopia to me.

But if I had to live in that world, what faction would I be part of? I suppose I might have been born in Ab... I take Caleb's copy book and read it. Abnegation. My family are the definition of selfless: always going for charity runs, offering money to the homeless and the poor children in other countries. Then what would I choose? Maybe Dauntless - they sound cool. And could I fit into Erudite? Perhaps if I worked harder, though the idea of having to be smart all the time doesn't appeal to me. I can't see myself in Amity or Candor. I think of the time I flung a ball at Peter's face, and honesty isn't always my first priority.

And Caleb... maybe he could be Abnegation. Or Erudite. He's very intelligent. Christina could only be Candor. Will, Erudite. Al... I'm not sure. Maybe Amity. Uriah...

I'm thinking much too deeply into this. I have to admit, while it's not finished, Caleb has done a good job in constructing a fictional world. The fact that he managed to think of this in one night is even more impressive.

We arrive at the school, and Uriah greets us outside the bus.

"Hey Tris. Hi Caleb."

"Hi."

"Are you okay, Tris? You look tired."

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Are you trying to say I look bad?"

"Now I didn't say you looked bad," he smirks, "I said you looked tired. Big difference."

I laugh a little. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I was up til two studying for a test today."

"Why?"

"I want to do well. It's my first test."

"Still, I wouldn't tire myself out for one little test."

"Don't they count for our report cards?" Caleb asks.

"Well they do, but I'd be more worried about the end of term exams. Zeke told me they're the ones you really have to study for. The others matter too, but not as much."

"Oh."

"Well, good luck on your test Tris!" He waves, running up to Lynn and Marlene as usual. I sigh. Uriah just doesn't get it. All of the teachers like him for his smiles and sense of humour. I don't have the type of personality that would make teachers instantly like me, so I have to make up for it in other ways.

Caleb and I split up once we enter the building. He joins his new friends, and I find mine. Will is at his locker, sorting out his books for the morning classes.

"Hi Tris," he says. "How's everything?"

"Good, I guess."

"You didn't get much sleep, did you."

"You're the second person to say that today, and it's not even nine o'clock."

"Sorry." He smirks, and even though I want nothing more than to return to my warm bed, I smile a little too. "But I mean it. You look really tired."

"I was studying."

"For what? Geography?"

"Yeah."

"I never understood why people stay up late cramming. I mean, where's the logic in that? Why not do a bit of revision every night? That's what I do."

I sigh. Will is going to ace this test, without a doubt, and with less effort than a lot of people, too. The bell rings, so I head for homeroom with Will and sit beside him. Max won't allow us to change our seats from the first day, so I'm lucky that I ended up next to Will and Al, even if it was originally a coincidence.

I feel Al's eyes on me, so I turn my head and give him an awkward wave.

"Hi Al."

"Oh, um, hi Tris," he stammers, his face red. I know I don't look great, but things must be really bad if even Al is staring at me.

Max enters the classroom, and thankfully there aren't a lot of announcements. I take out my geography textbook and test myself with the exercises at the end of the chapter. After ten minutes of attempting every question, I check my answers. All I had to do was fill in the blanks, but I got seventeen out of twenty correct; I know more than I thought. My spirits lifted, I try the harder questions and put my books back in my bag once the bell rings, and walk a little straighter to my next class, that bit more prepared for the test. I sit in the middle row, and after a minute or two the teacher hands out the sheets of paper.

The first question is my name. I'm not sure whether I should write down Beatrice, or Tris. I settle on the first option. The only teacher who calls me by my nickname is Max. Then comes the date, the easiest question on the test, since it's written at the top corner of the whiteboard in my teacher's neat handwriting.

Despite my lack of sleep, my brain seems to be functioning well enough. I am able to answer a lot of the questions, even the tougher ones; for those I don't know, I make an educated guess. I am finished my test before everybody else, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. I check my answers and change a few things, and begin to daydream. Peter in front of me is still writing, his normally smooth hair dishevelled from running his fingers through it. There's something about him that I don't trust: at first he seemed like the average annoying jerk you see in every year group, but when he threatened me that day in the P.E. hall, not to mention the look in his eyes, he showed a darker side. Cruel, maybe even ruthless.

After a while I notice that he repeatedly looks at his left hand, scribbled on with black scrawly swirls. After each look he returns to his geography paper. Then it hits me: Peter is cheating.

I feel a surge of anger. There are people in here panicking because they don't know their work: one person has his hands pressed against his head, a couple stare blankly at their paper, and a good many more sigh every minute or so. And then there's Peter - while he doesn't voluntarily answer any questions in class, he's the type that teachers think isn't listening but when they ask him what they just said, he's correct every time. He's smart, and that's what I think is the saddest thing of all. Peter doesn't really need to cheat. He can pass on his own.

I am no snitch, so I decide to ignore it for now. But while I'm not going to tell on him, I can't help hoping that another student or more preferably the teacher herself catches him.

At least I know that whatever grade _I_ get, it will be an honest one. When time is up and I head for next class, I try to put it out of my mind and approach Will.

"How do you think you did?" he asks.

"Better than I thought. How about you?"

"Same as usual."

Which likely means ninety to a hundred percent, judging by his standards. A person doesn't win numerous science projects for no reason.

"Yeah. Anyway, which box did you tick for the first question?" I ask.

"Umm... was that the one with the USA map?"

"Yeah."

"I ticked the second box."

I sigh with relief. "Good, that's what I did too. What about question four? I wasn't sure about that one."

"Umm... I can't remember right now, but I think it was the third one..."

"Oh." I ticked the first box, which means it's probably incorrect.

I wonder if I should tell Will about Peter. On one hand he's my friend, but I don't want to cause any trouble. It wouldn't bother me so much if he needed to cheat, but he doesn't. He's not stupid. And it's people like him who never get caught. Well, _I_ caught him.

"Hello? Earth to Tris?" Will waves a hand in front of my face. "I asked you what you wrote for the last question. You looked weird for a bit, is there anything wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure? Care to tell me about it?" He looks at me, concern in his pale green eyes, and I know, I know I can trust him to keep this quiet.

"Will, I saw Peter cheating. I hope I don't sound like a goody-goody, but I saw him, and I just - I don't think it's fair. I mean, why would he need to cheat? I'm letting this get to me a lot, but... I just don't like the idea of other people trying and then there's him. It's not right."

The frown on Will's face deepens. "Are you sure? Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"I sit right behind him. I saw him looking at his hand then writing on his test."

"Maybe you were mistaken."

"No, Will. He did it a few times. I know what I saw. I'm not stupid."

"Okay, okay, I was just saying. I don't want to jump to conclusions here, accuse someone of something they might not have done. But it is Peter, so I think it's believable."

"So what should we do? Keep it quiet? Or tell the teacher?"

"I don't know. I think you should keep it to yourself for the moment, nut make sure you keep a lookout next time we do a test. My next class is English, and I sit near him. I can try and see what's written on his hand, just so we can be sure he's cheating."

"Thanks, Will. But... don't tell Al or Christina just yet, okay? I don't want this to be a bigger deal than what it is."

"Christina?" He smiles broadly. "She'd go straight to the teacher and tell her. She hates Peter. She told me so lots of times. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Now Tris, I have to go this way for next class, so... See you."

I smile and wave at him. I knew I could count on Will to give me good advice.

* * *

 **That's that finished! I know Tobias wasn't present in this chapter, but he'll be back in the next one.  
Also, when Tris was putting her friends into factions - I know all of them apart from Caleb choose Dauntless, but since none of them act all that Dauntless in this story, I decided that Tris would think they belonged in different factions (their faction of origin for the most part, excluding Al).  
Finally, what would you do if you saw someone cheating? Personally I've no respect for it (obviously if there's a poster on the classroom wall with all the answers on it I'd look, but I'd never go out of my way to actually try to cheat), but if someone's struggling all the time I can understand their motives and I wouldn't mind too much. However, if it's someone relatively smart who's cheating, that's when I kind of feel frustrated (I still wouldn't tell though, since it'll always backfire in some way or other without my intervention, plus I'd be labelled a snitch where I'm from). Let me know what you'd do in that situation in the reviews! And also please tell me what you thought!  
**


	7. Anti-Bullying?

**I'm back! By the way, there's a scene here that takes place in the school library - I can't always say "I whisper" or "he whispers", so unless I clearly state otherwise, assume all the characters are whispering. Also I don't know Will's surname, so I decided to use the surname of the person who acts as him in the Divergent movie. Same goes for Edward. And I made one up for Myra. That said, enjoy!**

 **Charms22: At least Tobias is back in this chapter! From now on, even if he's not present in person, he will at least get a mention in most of the chapters (if not, all. And I will try to put as much as I can of him, within reason). And you're right about the cheating: some people honestly find school hard, but when it comes to the more important exams you won't be able to cheat. I think putting in more work or asking for help or even giving up is better than cheating. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **I can be a bit like that too at times when it comes to talking to teachers (or people in general). Glad you liked it and thanks for the review!**

 **Thanks to bookreader101xx for following and favouriting, and FandomUtopia for following!**

* * *

The first person I see the next morning as I step into the school building is Will, giving Christina a playful punch by the lockers. Both look like they're having fun, but while I hate to interrupt the moment, I have to talk to Will about Peter. I was busy during both lunch breaks yesterday, and didn't get a chance to speak to him.

When he sees me, he gives me a small nod in acknowledgement.

"Tris!" Christina opens out her arms and hugs me tightly. I automatically push her away, ignoring the hurt look that crosses her face. I am unused to friends being that close to me.

"You're very happy today," I laugh, trying to keep the mood light, not knowing what else to say after that awkward encounter. _Wouldn't be anything to do with Will being here,_ I want to add, but I don't think she'd appreciate it. Besides, I've other things to talk about than Christina's love life.

I don't know how to get rid of Christina without being rude or obvious, so I decide to wait til homeroom to ask Will about what he found out yesterday. Neither of them are talking right now, just staring at each other as if they're the only people in the hallway. The type of look that makes me feel like I'm intruding, an outcast among my friends.

"Uh, I just remembered. I forgot to get my science book from my locker..." My voice trails off as I realise they aren't really listening.

"What? Oh yeah, sure," Christina says, barely turning her head.

I slip away and smile to myself. It looks like two of my best friends will be official soon. I check my watch. Five to nine. I'm not sure where to go now, so I head for the library. I've never taken the time to visit it, which is odd considering the amount of books I share with Caleb (and never got around to reading myself). Maybe it's because Christina would never survive in a library, on account of the fact that she can't keep her mouth shut for prolonged periods of time. Perhaps the reason is that Al hates books - he said so himself. Or it might be just my indifferent attitude towards reading.

I spot Caleb sitting at a wooden table, studying from a textbook and whispering to two other boys. He raises his head at the sound of my footsteps, and his eyes meet mine, just for a second. I wave exactly as he drops his gaze, awkwardly, and returns to his book, highlighting like his life depended on it.

I stare at my brother a little longer, bewildered, confused, hurt. Not a single greeting for his own sister.

Then it hits me. He's ashamed. Embarrassed that I'm here when he's not alone, though I can't fathom why. But that look can only mean shame, the flushed cheeks, the speed at which he looked down.

So that's how it is. As long as we're on the bus, at home or somewhere not many people will see us, we're best friends. But the minute he's with his friends, that changes. It's all great when he wants to be with me, but better not look at him any other time. How humiliating, how horrible to have his sibling say hello to him. How uncool to do that in front of his new buddies.

At least one good thing came out of this: I needn't wonder why he's colder with me anymore. I turn on my heel and hope the anger isn't too evident on my face. The school bell resounds in my ears, but I barely notice it - there is already a ringing in my head. I take my seat in homeroom, and Max is late as usual. Good. I try to put Caleb out of my mind. I have other problems to sort out.

Will has a small, dreamy smile on his face when I look at him, almost goofy. Every few seconds he tries to be serious, but it doesn't last, his happy expression returns again and again.

I sigh. I know that Peter sits at the back for homeroom. It's fairly far away from the front, but I don't want to take any chances. I tear a sheet of paper from a random copy book in my bag, and scribble a sentence down. I pass it to Will, who frowns.

 _Can't we talk?_ he mouths.

I shake my head and point a finger at Peter as discreetly as possible under my desk. Will nods, writes something, and hands it back to me. I scowl when I see what he said. I am in no mood to be messed with today. I return the piece of paper to Will. He tilts his head as he reads what I wrote, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. Max comes in, and Will hurriedly gives the lined paper back to me. The end result is this:

 ** _Did you find anything?_**

 **Sorry Tris but there was nothing on either of his hands. You sure he was cheating?**

 ** _Course I'm sure. You're the one who's all about logic, couldn't he have washed his hands before English? Wouldn't that be the smart thing to do?_**

 **True. Guess we're just gonna have to wait and see.**

So we've gotten nowhere in this, not to mention that Will doesn't entirely believe in what I saw, despite the fact that I am not blind, or stupid. He could very well be falling for the "dumb blonde" stereotype. I can't help but smile ruefully. Will has blonde hair too, and a paler shade at that. That would be like insulting himself. To quote Will, there would be no logic in that. That cheers me up a little more than it should, even with the bleak start to my day. I have to see the funny side. If there isn't one, I have to make one up.

I zone out as Max rambles on about sports clubs, basketball and tennis and other activities I'm unlikely to ever join. Then he begins a speech about anti-bullying, and while my expression stays neutral, my mind scoffs at the teachers' way of thinking. It doesn't matter how many talks we get, how many posters we draw and put on cork boards around the school. Bullying is like the common cold: you can get rid of it once, but that won't stop it from returning again and again. It will take more than a coloured piece of paper to convince bullies to stop. At least I can say that my old school was good at dealing with that sort of thing.

I sometimes wonder what Mr Eaton said that turned troublemakers into angels who did no wrong for the remainder of their time there.

"That said, the principal asked all ninth graders to design anti-bullying posters for us to put around the school," Max explains, snapping me out of my thoughts. "We decided to give you two weeks, and you'll be put into groups of two."

He takes a basket from the top of his desk, which I didn't notice before, puts his hand in, and mixes whatever its contents are. The sight of a strong, burly man like Max carrying a woven basket is both absurd and amusing, and I bite my lip to hide a smile.

"I've put all your names in a basket, as you can see. And before you ask, no, you can't swap partners."

I'll be grateful if it's anyone apart from Peter or his two friends.

"Okay, so..." Max pulls out two strips of paper, looks at them and writes down the names. "Marlene. You're with Edward. Gabe, you're with Drew. Christina, with Lynn. Uriah, you're going with Molly. Tris, your partner's Al. Peter..."

Al and I look at each other and smile. Things are looking up. I didn't get a person I barely know, I'm paired up with a friend.

I exit homeroom with Al that morning, leaving Will behind with Christina.

"Tris." Al has a wide grin on his face. "What do you think we should do for the poster?"

"Anything, as long as it's not too hard to do," I say as we walk side by side. I have to tilt my head right up to talk to Al, and he has to look straight down. It feels like chatting with a giant.

"Please tell me you can draw?" he says.

I shake my head and smirk. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Great, so we're screwed!"

"Well, at least we're screwed as a group."

"I guess. Well Tris, I... I have to go this way now. Where should we meet to do the poster?"

"Umm... Maybe in the library. At the first break. By the computers."

"Okay. See you, Tris."

"Bye Al."

I feel a lot happier as I head for my next class. Of all the people in my friend group, Al is the one I know the least. He is shyer than Christina and Will, and apart from the odd joke or comment, he generally just watches and listens to us and laughs when appropriate. Even I'm not as quiet as I was three or four weeks ago. Back then I would never have envisioned myself with such good friends. They're not perfect like Susan or Robert, whom I haven't even thought about for a while, but they're fun and caring and not always trying too hard to spare my feelings: they're honest. Especially Christina for the last one.

The next two classes fly, and break approaches in no time. I gobble up my sandwich and grab some books from my locker as quickly as I can, so Al isn't kept waiting in the library for me.

As it turns out, I'm earlier than Al. I sit on a swivel chair and start up one of the computers, putting my school bag on the spare seat next to me so nobody takes it. A boy with short dark hair taps his fingers on the other side of me, presumably waiting for a slow website to load. I glance at him. My heart skips a beat when I register who he is, and my quick glance turns into a stare. He looks at me, with raised eyebrows.

"Tris."

He has a deep voice for his age. He must be only sixteen, if he's in eleventh grade.

"Tobias," I whisper casually, even though with my flaming cheeks, I feel anything but. He nods, and turns back to his computer screen.

"Everything going well so far?" he mutters, keeping his eyes on the screen.

"Yes, it is," I reply.

There is a long pause as I play around with the mouse. I don't want to start researching ideas without Al. I wonder where he is, and if he forgot he was supposed to meet me here.

"Tris."

I turn back to Tobias, and this time, his eyes are on me. They are a deep blue, almost black, with a patch of lighter blue on the left iris. I lower my gaze slightly, embarrassed to be having such thoughts about a guy.

"If you ever need anything," he says, "I'm here."

He shifts his attention back to the computer, scrolling down with his mouse. Before I have time to react, I see Al, moving briskly with flushed cheeks, scanning the area by the computers. It is impossible not to notice him. I remember thinking on my first day about how low the ceiling is, and how a very tall person's head would only be a few centimetres from the top. Al is one of those tall people I imagined. I hope for his sake that he has finished his growth spurt.

He spots me, waves and smiles. I return the gesture, but inside, I just want him to go back outside the library, so I can be alone with Tobias. The thought almost frightens me. I've never felt this way about a boy before. I've seen many guys whom I considered to be handsome, but the thought of being their girlfriend never even crossed my mind. Yet here is someone I've only been with three times, and-

"Sorry I'm late," Al breathes, taking the seat next to me. The small swivel chair looks like it will break under his weight. "I couldn't find my math book."

"Oh. Did you find it?"

"Yeah. It was in my bag the whole time."

He smiles as he says it, and I snort as he turns on his computer, forgetting to be quiet. I avoid the stern look the librarian gives me, and remind Al in a barely audible voice that we only have six minutes left. He nods, and we both start looking for ideas. I try to ignore the fact that Tobias is still right next to me.

"You know," Al says after a bit, "I was just thinking. Why don't we do this on the computer? The whole poster, I mean. It'll be more fun and a lot easier too."

"Okay. Are you any good at computers?"

"Sorry, didn't catch that."

"Are you any good with computers?"

"Me?" His eyes are suddenly sad, and his smile fades. "I'm not that good at anything, Tris."

"Oh. I'm okay, I guess. We can try... I mean, we've a better chance of doing a good poster on a computer than on paper."

"Yeah."

"And... I'm sure you're good at something, Al."

I hope I said the right thing. Comforting people when they're low is not my strongest point.

"Like what, Tris?" He gives a silent, mirthless laugh.

"You... You're a nice person. A good friend. What more could you want?"

He snorts, louder than I did, and the librarian makes a shushing sound in his direction.

"Forget it, Tris," he murmurs, his face red from the reprimand. "Nobody's going to ask me in a few years if I'm a nice person. They'll ask me what qualifications I have."

I am silent. I hate to admit it, but he is right. A nice personality is helpful if you want to get on with your workmates, but it's not really the first thing an employer looks for in an interview.

"See? I told you. Anyway we'd better turn this thing off. The bell's going to go at any second."

I nod. Al is sweet, but now that I've witnessed the self-loathing side of him, I start to hope he won't be too much of a downer when we meet again for the poster.

I give one last look at Tobias, still focused on his computer, and we leave the library.

"Tris," Al says once we're outside in the hallway, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Yes?"

"I don't know if the library's working, I mean we can barely talk without being shushed, and we don't get a lot of time, so... would it be better if we met up at each other's houses? I think we'd get more done. I mean, it's up to you."

"Yeah. I think we should do that."

"Yeah? Okay, so... which house? Yours, or mine?"

"Umm, maybe yours would be better. We only have one laptop in our house, and Caleb uses it a lot for homework, that's my brother, so..."

"Yeah. I've a sibling too, she's three, and... yeah." He scratches the back of his neck. "So... my house? Not today - maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I hear the bell. "Bye Al."

"See you in math, Tris."

I allow myself a silent groan when he is out of sight. The fact that his sister is a toddler will not help in the making of his poster. I do want to have my own children someday, but I tend to dislike other adult's kids. I was a bit tomboyish as a young girl, always playing outdoors and getting my clean clothes dirty (I scowled too when Susan received praise from my parents), and I confess that until the age of eight when I began to calm down, I was not an easy child to deal with. But when I look at some of the younger children I pass, whining and acting like spoiled brats, I wonder if I was all that bad.

I check my timetable. Geography. I doubt we'll get our test results back today. It's a pity, as I'm curious to find out my score. I sit down once I reach the classroom, and take out my pencil case and copy book, ready for when the teacher begins class. I spot a stack of papers on her desk - surely she hasn't them all corrected?

"Now class." She slaps her hands on her desk, making a few people gasp with fright, then pats the pile of papers. "As you can see, I have graded your tests. Some I was happy with, some I was not. Most were average. I understand that it's your first geography test, but I expect everyone who got fifty percent or less to improve your grade next time. Now, I have a list of all the results in order, from highest to lowest, and I will call them out-"

"Can you not call them out?"

All heads turn to the back of the classroom. A boy with an unruly mass of curls yawns. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

The teacher walks towards his table, her high heels making a soft thud on the carpet with each step she takes. Her eyes are narrowed, and her mouth is pressed into a hard line. A look like that can only mean big trouble. There is no doubt about it.

She smacks the palm of her hand on his desk, causing him to jump violently in his seat.

"Wake up," she spits. "Perhaps if you'd worked harder in class, Jacob, you might have been higher up at the top."

With that she returns to the front of the room, and smiles like nothing happened. "Anyway. As I was saying. I will read out all of the results from highest to lowest. If you got a high grade, congratulations. I'm sure you won't mind me telling everyone what you got. If you received a low score, let this be a lesson for you to work harder next time. So, the first person on the list is William Lloyd-Hughes, a hundred percent."

It takes me a few seconds to register who she's talking about. It is strange to hear Will being called by his full name. He sits near the front, so I can't communicate with him, but I'll make sure to congratulate him once class is over.

"Next is Edward Lamb, with ninety nine percent; Myra Smith with ninety eight; Beatrice Prior with ninety two; Peter Hayes with ninety one. That's it for the nineties, now for those who got eighty to eighty nine percent..."

I came fourth from the top. _Fourth_. Ninety two out of a hundred. To think that I was pretty worried about the test on the bus yesterday, and I only lost eight points in the end. But that's not the reason why I feel smug. I know this is pride, something my parents always told me to avoid, but I can't help it.

I like how I beat Peter, Peter who thought he was so clever when he wrote hints on his hand, Peter who mocked me and said I looked like an elementary school kid, that Peter. In fact, I don't just like it - I relish it. I have some shame in my thoughts - my family would not be pleased if they knew - but that shame is nothing, nothing compared to the feeling of victory I now possess.

I can't resist wearing a self-satisfied smirk as I do the assigned work. I wonder how much I wounded his ego. I can't see his face because he sits on front of me, but I'll get my answer at the end of this class period.

When I hear the sound of the bell, I dump everything in my bag. As I walk between the rows of desks, I give a quick look behind me. Peter has a deadpan expression, like he doesn't care, but the vicious glint that appears in his eyes when he catches sight of me hints at underlying fury. Suddenly uneasy, I get out of there as fast as I can, until I'm safe in the corridors. Will left before me, so I can't applaud his good grade. He's too far ahead of me. I'll have to wait til big break.

As I head for math I feel a pair of hands pressing into my back. Next thing I know I am sprawled on the floor, a small crowd of passers-by staring at me.

"Tris, are you okay? Didn't mean to do that, sorry."

Peter is in front of me, standing next to Drew. Peter bends down and grabs my arm, helping me up, or so it looks to the average observer. As he gets me to my feet he squeezes my arm, digging his nails into my skin. I wince, but I won't cry out this time. I won't let him know that he hurt me.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we have competition, huh?" he says in a low tone, still holding onto me, his face nearly touching mine. I can smell his stale breath, droplets of saliva landing on my face. He no longer looks angelic with his eyebrows turned downwards, eyes narrowed to half their real size, his looks marred by hatred and anger. He shoves me again, this time against a locker, and I grit my teeth as the impact hurts my head. He places his hands firmly on both of my arms so I can't escape. From the corner of my peripheral vision I can see more people staring, none willing to do anything to help me. Cowards.

"I know you cheated, Peter," I say quietly.

Telling him that was a mistake. He'll be on his guard from now on.

He raises an eyebrow, putting his face close to mine once more. "Why? Thinking of telling?"

"Peter Hayes, what are you doing?"

Peter lets go of me and turns around to meet face to face with our geography teacher. I watch him, and after a moment's hesitation, he runs his fingers along the back of his neck, an embarrassed gesture, and his face turns red.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. What were you doing?"

"Me, oh, I, I was-"

"What were you doing?"

He looks down, his cheeks flushing a darker shade of red. "I was... I was kissing her, miss. I'm very sorry."

Drew snorts with suppressed laughter.

As for me, I'm too shocked to react.

The teacher's left eyebrow quirks upwards.

"Well Peter, learn to control yourself in future. You are on school grounds, and this is not appropriate behaviour. And you Beatrice shouldn't be encouraging him. I'll give you a chance because you're new, but next time will be a detention. Understood?"

"Yes miss," Peter says meekly. I am speechless. She fell for Peter's act? I suppose it _might_ have seemed like we were about to kiss at first glance, but did it look like I was enjoying it? In that case, my geography teacher is not very bright, despite her strict appearance.

Peter shoves me a third time once she walks off, but this time it is only a gentle push, and I barely stagger. Well, as gentle as Peter gets, anyway.

"Eww. As if anyone would want to kiss you," he says, shaking his head with disgust.

"Yeah. I might give you cooties, so better watch out."

At first he gapes at me, looking like he might laugh. Instead, he rolls his eyes, and strolls ahead with Drew.

Peter may be a jerk. Peter may even be a little intimidating at times. But there is one good thing he has done for me, even if he doesn't know it: he has given me the motivation to ace my exams and beat his dishonestly earned grades. Because no matter how many times he shoves me, or hurts me, or disrespects me, I will not break because of him. I will thrive.

* * *

 **It's never stated in the books whether Al has a sibling, so I decided to give him one for this fanfic. Also, I only realised this right before publishing this chapter, but the irony here is that the teachers claim to be against bullying, yet when Peter physically hurts Tris, they do nothing about it. You get some schools that are good at that sort of thing. Others... not so much. I was going to call this chapter _School Work_ , but I changed it to _Anti-Bullying?_ for this reason.  
Please review!**


	8. Al's House

**I'm back!**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **I'm really glad you liked the kissing part, I wasn't too sure if a real-life teacher would believe that. And yeah, bullying is something that isn't dealt with all that well in some schools, even after years of it happening. I'm super happy you like this fanfic and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Charms22: I'm really happy you liked the last chapter and as always, thank you for reviewing!**

 **Thanks to Adibaa, ester. ped. ufjf and winterinnyc for favouriting, and Sugar Free Bear for following!**

* * *

"What's your problem, Beatrice?"

I don't answer as I sit on the couch, watching as the clock ticks on the mantelpiece. Caleb sits next to me, a baffled look on his face. At least, I think there would be, if I was bothered enough to turn my head.

Which I'm not.

"You're acting weird since yesterday. What did I do this time?"

"Excuse me?" I still don't look at him, but my voice rises. "I'm just doing what you did to me at the library. You know. Ignoring your own family."

"Beatrice, you don't understand, I-"

"Don't Beatrice me. And for your information, Caleb, I understand perfectly. You don't want anything to do with me once we're at school. I get it. What I don't get is why you have this weird way of thinking, but you know what? I don't really mind. I don't need you, Caleb. I choose to be nice to my brother, but the truth is, I don't have to be. I don't need you for anything."

I turn and glower at him. He looks stricken, like he is the victim in this. I glance at the clock, and stand up.

"I'm going. Tell Mom and Dad that I said bye."

"But Beatrice, I-"

"And don't Beatrice me. I am not a child."

"Why are you so difficult?"

"Why is it so difficult for you to acknowledge your own family?" I give a frustrated sigh. "Now if you don't mind, I have to go now. You obviously don't see what you did wrong, so-"

"Now hang on a second!"

I don't bother answering him this time. I walk out, leaving my brother to contemplate on his actions.

No, that is unlikely: he clearly doesn't see the situation from my point of view.

The weather is fairly warm, the last of the summer weather, so I unzip my jacket and wrap it round my waist. Asking my parents last night about going to Al's house was more of an ordeal than I expected. Mom was fine. She did ask me a few questions about his age and who he was, but overall she didn't seem to mind.

Dad was a different story. Apparently all fourteen year old boys apart from Robert and Caleb are only trying to get me into their bed, to summarise his side of the argument. It took an hour of repeatedly reminding him that it was for school purposes, coupled with a few exaggerations on how nice a person Al is, for me to convince him that I'll be safe in Al's house.

As it turns out, Al doesn't live too far from my neighbourhood. I'm surprised he doesn't take the same bus as me. Maybe he goes by car. After a few minutes, I am at his doorstep, and I double-check my phone. We exchanged numbers yesterday during lunch break, and he sent me his address so I wouldn't forget it. Yes, this should be the right place.

I rap six times on the varnished wooden door, and wait. A shortish, round woman opens up, eyeing me from head to toe. She wears a black and white t-shirt with thin horizontal stripes, which does no wonders for her stout figure.

"You must be Tris," she says. Her voice is rather loud, but her smile is warm. "I've heard so much about you. Come on in!"

I follow her inside, and look around the hallway. It is different from my own home. There are a few baby toys strewn on the tiled floor, dolls and small vehicles and a rubber ducky. A number of framed family portraits decorate the walls. There are no photos of us on display in my house, they are all stored in albums. I take a look at one of them; a younger Al gives me a toothy grin. He is not particularly tall here, so his height must have increased rapidly in his teens.

Al's mother leads me into their sitting room, the floor filled with even more toys, obscuring most of the carpet. A flat-screen television set shows an animated movie I remember seeing a few years ago. Pillows are thrown carelessly on the sofa, and sunshine radiates through the bay window.

I'm still standing at the doorway when she takes the remote from the armrest, mutes the volume and looks at me.

"Take a seat, Tris," she says, patting the sofa as I struggle to get across the room, and scrutinising me again. "My, aren't you small. I'll get him down... Albert!" She lowers her voice and gives me an apologetic sigh. "Probably on his computer... PC gaming, or whatever he calls it. Albert!"

"Yes Mom?" comes the muffled reply.

"Your friend is here! Turn that game off right now and get down here!"

"Coming Mom!"

I hear rapid, heavy footsteps, then I see him walking into the sitting room.

"Hi Tris," he says with a strained smile.

"Hi Al."

"What were you doing, playing games at this hour? Didn't you say she was going to be here at five?"

"I - I lost track of time. Sorry, Mom."

"Hmm. Anyway... stand up Tris."

I obey her request, trying not to let any confusion show. Al's eyes are wide and a little panicked as his gaze shifts from his mother to me. She grabs my right shoulder with one hand, reaches up to repeat the action on Al and pushes us right next to each other. She examines both of us in turn, her mouth agape.

"Tris... you... you are half the size of my son!"

She measures the distance between the top of my head and the top of Al's with her hands, and shakes her head with wonder. My cheeks are red at this stage. I feel like one of those people you would pay to look at in a freak show. And judging from Al's ill-concealed scowl and downcast eyes, he feels just the same.

"How...?" she asks nobody in particular. Then she turns to me. "You know, we can't find any clothes to fit our son anymore. The jeans he has on him are the only pants he can wear; everything else goes above his ankles. And he's so clumsy too, our Albert. He'd better stop growing soon, or he'll bang his head off doorways if he doesn't watch where he's going."

A red-faced Al clears his throat.

"Mom, I think we'd better start our poster now. We're kind of behind."

"But I thought you said you had two weeks!"

"Yeah, I... I have a lot of exams coming up..."

"Telling lies," she tuts. "You just want to get away from me, don't you? I'm sorry Tris, you must think my son is such a liar. We raised him to be a good, honest boy, and-"

"Mom, please." Al sounds desperate now.

"Okay, you can leave me. And you know the rules Albert, bedroom door open if you've girls over."

He closes his eyes momentarily before walking out, prompting me to follow him. As we walk up the stairs in silence, I notice his grey-black jeans. His mother is right: they fit him perfectly. I also note how he wears a long-sleeved shirt, despite the good weather. Come to think of it, I've never seen him in anything with short sleeves, not even for P.E.

We enter his room, and he wordlessly sits at his computer, his jaw clenched. The bed is carelessly made, and the top of his desk is dusty. He jabs at some buttons on the keyboard, and presses the enter key with considerable force. It is uncomfortable; I may as well not be here. I take the seat next to him, playing with my thumbs.

A faint sigh makes me look up from my hands. Al doesn't quite meet my eyes, but he speaks, though it's more to himself than to me.

"Tris, I... I'm sorry about my mom, I... I knew she'd do something like this, she's like that with everyone, and I mean, what was she even talking about with that last comment, I barely have any people over unless it's a school thing, and... I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

I smile. "It's fine, Al."

"I bet your parents aren't as bad as that. Nobody could be as bad as that. At least you didn't meet my dad... he's even worse. You mightn't see him anyway because he gets caught in traffic jams and doesn't get home til late. I mean I still love my parents, but... I wish they wouldn't embarrass me all the time."

I don't answer, because he's right. My mother always says the right thing, no matter who the guest. And for all my father's faults, he doesn't make me feel awkward in front of my peers.

"So... where should we start?" I ask.

He points at the screen, scrolling down through some images. "There are a few good ones here," he says. "How about this one?"

"I'm not too sure. Let's look at some more."

He nods. "This one?"

"We could do a sort of collage, just to make it different from everyone else's. It's not too much effort, either, so it'll be easy and effective."

"Yeah."

"We could maybe use that stencil font in that image for the writing, and type it in black, so it stands out."

"I don't have that font, though."

"Type in 'stencil alphabet' and print it out. Then we can trace out the slogan onto a blank page, colour the letters with black marker, cut them out and glue them onto the collage."

"I don't have a printer, either."

"Save the collage and alphabet onto your email, then print it in the school library."

He slaps a hand on his forehead. "Of course. Why didn't I think of any of this? You're really smart, Tris."

I give him an awkward smile. It didn't take much effort to figure it out.

"I'm really glad Max put us together, Tris."

My cheeks warm. It's a nice thing to say, but something about the sincerity in his tone and the way he's looking at me makes me uneasy. I hope my embarrassment doesn't give out the wrong message.

"Thank you, Al." My voice is clipped and formal, so I cough and try again. "Thanks, Al. I like working with you too - you're a great friend."

"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "Yeah. So... which pictures do you think we should use?"

"Everything we can fit in."

I guide him towards the pictures I think we should include, while he copies and pastes them onto a document. It looks pretty good when it's finished, and it took us less than twenty minutes.

"What slogan should we use?" Al asks me. "I'll do that part, since you thought of everything else."

"I don't know. Maybe 'Stop the Spread of Bullying and Report', or something like that.

"Won't that take up too much space?"

"Hmm. Okay, let's change it to 'Always Report Bullying'. It's not that great, but-"

"It's better than anything I could think of." He saves everything onto his email, and turns to me. "Well, we're done. All we have to do is get the letters finished. I should have that done over the next couple of nights. Max sure gave us a lot of time."

"He did."

"So, what do you want to do now?"

"I guess I'll have to go home. My mom isn't expecting me back til quarter past six, but..."

"You can stay here if you want."

"Do you mind? I don't really want to go back right now. It's my turn to do the cooking tonight, and I'm kind of tired."

"You can cook?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that's so cool!"

"Not really. My brother cooks too. We take turns every night. That includes my parents."

"Wow. Here it's just Mom, sometimes Dad. Well, they did make me do it once, but it went badly. We were vomiting for days afterwards."

"I take it they didn't ask you again?" I smirk.

"No, and I hope for everyone's sake that it stays that way." He chuckles as he switches off the computer.

I hear light footsteps. A toddler stands by the open door, sucking her thumb. Her hair is knotted and sticks out, and her cheeks are flushed from sleep.

"Al-bert," she lisps, running towards him.

"Susie? You woke up, huh?" He smiles, picks her up, and places her on his knee. "Tris, this is my little sister, Susie."

I'm not crazy about children, but even I have to admit that this one is pretty cute. Her eyes are wide and brown, like Al's - but they regard me with suspicion. Susie turns away, nuzzling her head into Al's shoulder.

"She's shy around people she doesn't know," he explains, idly rubbing her hair, "but she's a good kid once she gets to know you. She takes up a lot of the house, though - you've seen our sitting room by now."

I nod and smile, watching as he tickles his sister's toes, making her squeal with delight.

"I'm... hungry," she says breathlessly after he stops tickling her.

"You're hungry? I'll take you downstairs. Maybe Mommy has something for you?"

"Chocolate?"

"Maybe." He laughs, standing up with Susie in his arms. "I'll just get her downstairs, Tris. I'll be back in a minute."

"Can't she go herself?" My parents told me I could climb up and down a staircase properly by the time I was two.

"That's what Mom says, but... Susie fell down the stairs a few months ago, I saw the whole thing... She was screaming, nothing really bad happened but she had a bump on her head for ages." He winces at the memory. "Mom and Dad keep saying she's fine, and it won't happen again, but I don't want to take any chances."

I nod as he walks out with Susie, but inside, I don't agree with Al's way of thinking. It mustn't have been nice to see his baby sister crying with pain, but if everybody was like Al, nobody would leave the house for fear of being unsafe. I once fell off my bike when I was six, and broke my leg. If Mom and Dad had been scared of me hurting myself again, and didn't allow me back on my bicycle, I would never have used it following the incident. Since they encouraged me to go on it after my leg was healed, I got over my fear of cycling. Al's parents are right. He shouldn't be protecting Susie so much.

I'm not sure what to do while I wait for Al. I want to get up and look around, but I don't want him to come in and think I'm prying, so I remain seated and stare at his computer. He's lucky to have one for himself alone, and play games on it whenever he feels like it. We have to share a laptop in my house, and we don't use it for leisure purposes, as Dad is frightened that we'll break it. Caleb has tried telling him that there are a lot of safe websites that aren't educational that we could visit, but he is too stubborn to listen. Once Dad gets an idea into his head, it is difficult to make him change his mind.

Al returns. "Sorry about that," he says.

"It's okay. What time is it?"

"Half five."

"Too early." I smile.

"You really hate cooking, don't you? Not that I blame you, but..."

"I don't hate it. I'd just rather not do it."

"Hmm. Well, what do you want to do until then? Play a game?"

"Board games?"

"No. Well I have chess, but... I meant on the computer."

"I've never played a game. Actually I did, in a toy shop. You know, those demos you see there. I don't see what all the hype is about, to be honest."

"I could teach you."

"Thanks Al, but no. You're wasting your time and you'd only get frustrated. I know nothing about gaming."

He looks disappointed, but drops the subject. "Well, maybe we could watch a movie downstairs? Oh wait, you have to go in less than an hour, don't you? No point then. How about we just watch TV? We can see if there's anything short on."

"Okay."

I follow him downstairs, and we enter the sitting room. He pushes the toys out of our way with his foot, and slumps on the couch. He flicks the remote towards the television, and checks the TV guide.

"There's never anything good on," he mutters. After a while he settles on a comedy show, one I've never been fond of.

"Is this okay?" he asks. "It's alright if you want something else."

"No Al," I say. "I'm sure I'll like it. It looks funny."

"Okay."

It's supposed to be a comedy, but fifteen minutes in and I haven't laughed once, though it did make me wonder how whoever chooses the programmes thought this was good enough to be aired. Al smiles once or twice, but other than that his face looks as bored as I feel.

"This is horrible," Al says, following an unbearably lame joke being told by one of the characters.

"I didn't want to say anything, but... yeah."

A sudden movement at the doorway catches my attention. A tall, strong man, not unlike Al in appearance and similar in stature, smiles slightly in our direction.

"Hi Dad." Al stands up to greet his father, and I copy him. "You're home early."

"I had better luck with the traffic today," his father says. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks at me, and back to his son.

"Sorry if I interrupted anything, Albert. I didn't know you had a girlfriend over."

Al turns red. "She's not a girlfriend, Dad. We were just doing a poster together. Dad, this is Tris. She's my friend from school."

"Tris. Sounds very familiar. Isn't she the girl you were yapping on and on about for the past couple of weeks?"

I glance up at Al. His face isn't red anymore; it can only be described as scarlet. He wasn't lying when he said his dad was worse than his mom.

"I... I'd better go," I say, trying to spare Al of his discomfort. I check the clock on the wall. It's a little early, but late enough that I'll get away with making the dinner. "My parents will be wondering about me. Bye Al."

"Bye Tris, see you at school," he mumbles, staring at his hands.

"You're going already?" Al's mom comes in, and says goodbye to me.

"And you're welcome back anytime you want, Tris!" his father says, ushering me towards the front door and unlocking it.

"Thank you."

I step outside. The air is cooler, causing goosebumps to appear on my bare arms. I untie my jacket from my waist, and put it on.

I'm glad we have our poster finished, most of it anyway. Art was never my strongest subject. Whenever I got it for homework in elementary and middle school, I would spend the least time possible.

Thanks to Al, I forgot about my argument with Caleb for a while. But he also gave me another problem. The way he spoke to me at times, not to mention those comments his dad made, and his reactions to them... Could he like me as more than a friend?

I hope not. I can't imagine going out with him, and kissing him would feel very weird. I don't even know how that would work, considering the height difference between us and our inexperience. He is a nice person, gentle and kind, but I could never be attracted to Al. He is too sensitive.

From there I find myself thinking of Tobias. He is handsome, but I don't think girls would throw themselves at him. In fact, apart from that girl Shauna, who I'm sure is only a friend to him, I've never seen him anyone of the opposite sex.

I am curious about him. I feel like he has shut himself out from the world by acting intimidating, and that there might be more to him than meets the eye. But unless I can find a plausible reason to be talking to a boy two grades above me, it seems I'll be left forever hanging.

I sigh. It is best to put both Al and Tobias out of my mind, or things will start to get awkward between us. Besides, I am reaching home. I do not want to have such thoughts in front of my mother. She can sometimes guess what I'm thinking if I'm too obvious.

I kick a stone down the pavement. Who cares about boys? Daydreaming about Tobias isn't going to be beneficial to my schoolwork, anyway.

* * *

 **The fact that Al's parents are Candor is why his mom and dad in this chapter are so honest. Speaking of Candor, I finally decided to investigate now why ffnet kept underlining this word in red. Turns out in Europe, it's supposed to be spelled candour. That looks weird, however, so when I'm talking about the Divergent factions, I'll always spell it the American way.**

 **Also, I have a poll on my profile asking which faction would you choose. There's no reason for it, I'm just curious to see which gets the most votes. For the record, I chose Erudite.**

 **And finally, please leave a review! I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter.**


	9. Love Problems

**Hi everyone! You might have noticed that I changed the themes of this story: instead of Drama/Friendship, it's now Drama/Romance. I did this because I feel that while the story will have some drama, it's just not dramatic enough to have it down as a theme. However, while I replaced drama with romance, friendship still continues to be the main theme.**

 **Wrenlovesreading: Glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Charms22: Yeah, that's true. Even though I ship Tris with a few other characters, I think that realistically Tobias is the only one she could ever love. Any other pairing would only work in the world of fanfiction. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **LanaTobiasFailAtWriting: Thanks for all the reviews! And don't worry: there will be a little Fourtris in this chapter, and a lot more in upcoming chapters.**

 **VortexWynd: Thank you! I'm really happy you're enjoying my story so far.**

 **Brokenwings35: Thanks for all the reviews!**

 **Thanks to VortexWynd and LanaTobiasFailAtWriting for following and favouriting, and bianconiglio for following!**

* * *

We sit in the canteen during lunch break, me and Christina and Will and Al. Christina and Will are play-fighting, with light punches and gentle shoves. I wonder when they'll become official. Their feelings for each other are becoming more obvious by the day.

Al seems a little awkward. Since I went to his house last week, he barely glances in my direction. I don't blame him. I would be embarrassed too if that was my dad. But at the same time, I want my friend back.

"Anyway," Will says, turning away from Christina.

"Oh. Did you finally notice that Al and I are here too?" I interrupt, only half-joking. I don't appreciate being left alone with a virtual mute.

He blushes slightly, but continues like I didn't say anything. "You heard the news about Mel Waters, right?"

"Mel Waters? I've heard of her. Who is she, anyway?"

"You don't know her? The popular girl in our year? The one all the guys talk about? She has a new boyfriend."

Will is giving me an odd look, like I should know exactly what he's talking about.

"So?" I say.

Christina, Will and Al share a look.

"I don't think she knows," Christina mutters.

I've never felt so left out. Apparently this is something I'm supposed to be aware of, though I don't see why I should care about a random cool girl. I am not familiar with Mel Waters. I've heard her name being spoken once or twice, but I don't even know what she looks like.

"What is it?" I say. "Tell me."

Christina turns to Al. "You say it."

"Me? Why can't Will tell her?"

"I am here, you know," I say, a little put out. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not sitting right next to you."

Will sighs and faces me. "Tris, her boyfriend is Caleb. Caleb Prior."

"He's your brother," Christina says. "Right?"

"Caleb," I utter. I laugh and shake my head. "No. Caleb likes someone from our old school. Our neighbour."

Will shrugs. "That's the story that's going around."

"No. He never told me about any girl called Mel. It must be a mistake, a rumour."

"I'd say that too," Will says, "but people have seen them together. Lots of people."

I stare at my plate, trying to take in the new information. We haven't been on good terms lately, but why didn't Caleb tell me? We've never kept secrets from each other. I feel betrayed, like my brother is quickly growing up, away from me.

"Are you okay?" Christina asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I know he's your brother, but I don't get why it's such a big deal."

"No. I just... didn't know he had a girlfriend," I answer with a weak smile. "Let's talk about something else."

"Okay. So, Tris. One of you has found love. Is there anyone _you_ have your eye on?"

Tobias's face flashes in my mind, and my cheeks heat up.

"Look at you, you're all red!" Christina squeals, pointing at my face. "So. Who is he?"

At this point, denial is futile. "I... no. I'm not even sure if I like him."

"You must like him in some way. Come on! Tell us!"

I shake my head. "You'd tell."

"I wouldn't!"

"Yeah you would," Will smirks. "You can't keep your mouth shut. We could secure it with duct tape and you'd still find a way to get your voice across."

"I would not!"

"Yeah you would."

"Okay, okay. So I can't keep my mouth shut. Would you rather if I was quiet?" She pouts, and Will puts an arm around her, saying something quietly so Al and I can't hear. I feel like I should leave now, like I'm intruding on a private moment. Their behaviour is flirtatious, and at this rate they'll be kissing, something I'd rather not see my best friends doing. Yes, I should definitely go.

I take my tray, walk across the canteen and place it on the trolley. I hear footsteps behind me; it is Al, carrying his own tray.

"I thought I'd go after you," he says.

"Yeah," I laugh. "I think they'd rather be alone right now."

He smiles, but I don't feel all that comfortable. I'm not sure if I want to be alone with Al, without my other friends there too.

"I got that poster done during the weekend, by the way," he says, putting down his bag and unzipping it. He pulls out an A4 copy book, opens it, and takes out the poster. "Is this okay?"

I take a look. My inner perfectionist points out that the letters aren't well cut out, and there are white, spiky edges on the insides of some of them. But the background is good, and it's certainly good enough to hand up to Max.

"Yeah. It's fine."

"Good. I was worried that I didn't do it right," he says, sounding relieved. He puts the poster and the copy book back in his bag. "The weather's nice today, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Um. Why don't we take a walk around the school? May as well enjoy the good weather..." He chuckles. It is a high, nervous sound.

 _No_ , my head screams at me to reply. But I don't know how not to make it sound rude, so I smile and accept his offer. Besides, I've never done anything to lead him on, so nothing particularly romantic should come out of this.

His smile broadens. "Okay. Let's go."

We head outside, with Al walking just a bit closer to me than I'd like. I'm not sure how to handle the possibility of my friend being interested in me. A small part of me is excited - this would never have happened in my old school, I was too quiet and forgettable. I am mostly worried, though, for both of us. If I were to reject Al, not only would I upset him, it might ruin our friendship for a while, maybe even permanently. And a third part of me thinks - hopes - that he might not like me that way at all.

"So, Al," I say. "How's school going? Any of the teachers giving you hassle?"

He doesn't look at me, but a small frown is visible.

"Not good," he says. "I've failed three tests already. And I haven't passed one."

"Oh. Um." I'm starting to regret my question. "I'm sure you'll get better after a while, Al."

He laughs bitterly. "Twenty nine percent, Tris. And that's my highest. You need fifty to pass. That means I need to up my grade by, let me see... thirty one percent?"

"Twenty one. But Al, you could do it if you tried, I mean..."

He snorts. "I can't even subtract properly. I used to try, Tris. There's just no point. I'm stupid. Always have been, always will be. Even my parents say so sometimes. It's too much, Tris. It's too much stress." He lets out a heavy sigh.

I don't know what to say. Maybe he was never smart, but surely his grades were better when he tried. He can't expect a miracle if he's going to just give up.

"I hate this place, Tris," he says. "But at least I'm not getting bullied here. That's a pro, I guess."

"You were bullied?" That may explain why he brings himself down so much.

"Yeah. But it was sorted out. Anyway, speaking of bullies. Is Peter still giving you a hard time?"

"How do you know about that?" Apart from the first day, I don't remember Al ever being there when Peter hurt me or called me names.

"I know more than you think," he says, raising an eyebrow. "I hear things. Also, I know a bully when I see one. I've had my share of them in the past."

"Oh. Well... he's the same as ever. Last time he shoved me to the ground, then pushed me into a locker and banged my head off it."

"Ouch," he winces. "Did anyone see?"

"Lots of people." I smirk ruefully.

"Tris, that's terrible. Did no teacher come to help you at all?"

"Yes, a teacher saw but no, she didn't do anything about it. Peter made some excuse and she believed him."

Al shakes his head in disbelief. I don't care for the look on his face. It is an expression of pity, as if I am too weak to deal with that kind of thing.

"He didn't really hurt me though," I carry on. "Not that badly, anyway. You don't have to worry about me, Al."

"But I mean-"

"Al, I'm fine. See? No bumps, no bruises, no cuts. So I'm fine. Okay?"

He nods slowly, unconvinced, as we walk on. In the distance I spot Tobias heading in our direction, talking to his friends. A feeling of nervous excitement builds up inside me. After our conversation in the library I've been thinking about him a lot, more than I should be. He is too old, I keep telling myself; but I can't control how I feel. This is how it must feel to have a crush on someone, and I'm not sure if I like it. I'm not sure if I like the way my heart beats a little faster when I think of Tobias or see him, and I certainly don't like the way I occasionally blush around him.

As he gets closer, his eyes skim my face, eyebrows raising in recognition. He doesn't say anything, but looks at me for a long moment. Then he nods, discreetly, and I give him a small smile in return, though I feel more like grinning. Nobody should have noticed that exchange between us; it's like a secret greeting.

I scold myself. This is ridiculous. I can't be swooning after a sixteen year old. Everyone knows that type of age gap doesn't work in relationships. I should crush on someone my own age. I shouldn't even be thinking about relationships. Ridiculous.

"Uhh... Tris?"

I turn my head sharply, forgetting all about Al amidst all the confusion - all the non-existent confusion, entirely created by myself. It was a simple nod - I just blew it out of proportion. Secret greeting, indeed.

"Tris," he repeats, staring at me with bright cheeks, running a hand up and down the leg of his jeans. "Um, Tris? You... you know how I said about me hating this school?"

"Yeah?" I say cautiously. I'm not sure what to make of his serious tone.

"Well... I guess there are a few things I like about it. I mean, I made new friends here. Will, Christina, they're great. And... I guess I like it here in some ways, just a little bit. I fit in here. Sort of, anyway."

I nod, but a feeling of dread creeps up on me. His tone is too earnest. This is far from a lighthearted comment about how awesome his friends are.

Especially because he hasn't mentioned me yet.

"And..." He clears his throat, his face turning redder. "Of course there's you too."

Oh no.

"I mean, Tris... you've helped me fit in so much. The others did too, but... it's different. When I'm around you, Tris, I feel like there's a chance I might get on fine in this place. Even if it doesn't always seem that way."

I have to stop him. I have to stop him now before I regret it - before both of us regret it.

"Al, I..."

But I can't, I don't know how. I want to tell him that I don't like him, not romantically, but the words stick in my throat, they won't come out no matter how I try.

"And Tris, I... I was thinking if we could go out sometime, and-"

"Al." The words finally free themselves. I feel like a terrible person, but it has to be done. "I'm sorry, but... I don't feel that way about you. I - I'm so sorry."

A painful, awkward silence ensues. I don't look at him, I can't look at him; my hands suddenly seem very interesting. I have prominent knuckles, reddish pink in colour, and my fingers are bony, my nails small and jagged, bitten. I take my attention off my hands, and chance a look at Al. I expect to see disappointment, maybe a trace of anger, but instead, nothing. Emotionless. Indifferent - but I know better.

"Al?" I murmur. The silence must be broken. We can't walk on as if I haven't just turned him down and squashed all his hopes. "I'm sorry. I-"

"It's okay, Tris," he sighs. "I kind of knew already - I just thought I'd take a risk. But I was wondering - who _do_ you like?"

"Al-"

"Don't worry," he says with a wan smile. "I won't tell him. I'm just curious."

There is a long pause as I debate whether I should tell him or not. Eventually, I settle on a third option. I decide to reveal some of the truth, but not all of it.

"He's two years older than me," I say. Then, as if it will make him feel better, "And I have no chance with him."

He thinks about it, undoubtedly trying to think of possibilities, but I don't think he comes up with anything. He nods and walks faster, seemingly satisfied with my response, but his smile is sad when he turns around.

"See you, Tris," are his last words.

I wave at him with a grin I don't feel. Until he gets over his feelings for me, nothing will be the same between us.

* * *

I don't sit on the bus with Caleb that evening - I follow Uriah instead. I don't know how my brother feels about that, because I choose not to look at him. Two can play at that game.

"Hi Uriah," I say, smiling sweetly to disguise my anger.

"Tris." He nods. "What's up?"

I whisper so Caleb can't hear. "I'm not talking with my brother. Mind if I sit here for today?"

"Sure Tris, whenever you like." He picks up his bag and places it on his lap, giving me room to sit down. He lowers his voice, then asks me what happened.

"It's a long story."

"Oh. Care to tell me about it? I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart and hope to die."

I smirk despite myself. "Basically he's just being a jerk in general. I kind of want to punch him."

"I do boxing after school. I can beat him up for you if you want. I can get my brother to help out too!"

"Maybe not. But it's just... since we've started school, he's been acting strange. Not talking to me as much, ignoring me if I say hello, you get the picture. And today I found out from a _friend_ that he has a girlfriend - some popular girl in our year."

"Well Tris, about the last part, he doesn't have to-"

"Okay, okay, so he doesn't have to tell me about his love life. But here's where it gets complicated. You see, Caleb and my old friend, she's not in this school, they liked each other for a while. I'm worried about what will happen when she finds out."

"You're saying she's an old friend. Do you still talk?"

"Not really, but-"

"I don't think she'll find out."

"Uriah, you don't understand. She's our neighbour."

" _Oh_. That makes things a bit more complicated. Well if that's the case, she'll probably find out, especially if he brings his girlfriend over to your house. But Tris... they weren't going out. There was no commitment. I'm not making excuses for him, ignoring your own sister is not cool. Zeke never did that to me."

"Yeah. It's not like we were the type of brother and sister who hated each other, we were best friends until we started this school, and then... We used to tell each other everything, and now he's being secretive. I don't understand it."

"Yeah. It could be that he's made his own friends now. It's still not nice, but there isn't that much you can do about it. And Tris..." He smiles. "He doesn't have to tell you about his girlfriends. I don't even know how many girls Zeke dated before Shauna, he just never really told me. It doesn't mean anything bad. I would say talk to him. And don't get mad."

"Thanks, Uriah."

He grins. "You know, I should sign up for the school magazine, for that advice columnist thing."

I chuckle. The school magazine comes out monthly, and one has already been published. I bought one as they are sold for only two dollars each, and while it's filled with thrash, it's good for when you want something to laugh about.

"I can see it already," he continues. "'Ask Uriah' at the top of the page! And a picture of my beautiful face, of course, that's the most important thing if I want to get readers, right?"

"You'd have to solve a lot of problems."

"Not really. I'm sure not all of them are picked out for the magazine, just the more interesting ones. Plus the magazine committee probably gets a lot of joke problems. So? You think I'd be up for it?"

"Definitely."

"Now the question is... how would I get rid of the current advice columnist? Oh, I know... bribe the cook to poison her dinner in the canteen. Great idea, huh?"

I laugh til tears come out of my eyes. It's not even what he says, it's how he says it. I can always count on Uriah to cheer me up on a bad day.

"But then, how would I solve all of the love problems? I mean, I've had a lot of girlfriends in the past - girls just can't resist me, you see - but they lasted a couple of days at most. Okay, screw that job! Forget I said anything at all."

My laughter peters out. Between Mel, Caleb, Al and Tobias, I've had enough love related problems for one day already.

"Tris? What's wrong? You okay? Is it Caleb?"

"Not this time."

He grins. "Maybe I should consider that job after all. All we have to do is get you to sign all the problems with different names!"

I still don't laugh.

"Eh... look Tris, I'm sorry. That probably wasn't the right thing to say. Anyway, tell me. What is it?"

"Well... I don't want to say who it is, but... today a friend told me he likes me, and me, I don't feel the same way back."

"Ah."

"He's someone I talk to everyday. It's going to be weird being with him after what happened."

He nods. "Yeah. I don't know. I think it'll take time, but if you're really friends it'll be fine after a while."

Just then, the bus comes to a halt before stopping. I enjoyed chatting with Uriah so much, I didn't even realise I was close to my stop.

"See you, Tris," he smiles. "And I hope the rest of the day gets better for you."

"Bye Uriah. And thank you. For talking to me."

Once I'm off the bus, I wait for Caleb. He doesn't seem happy to see me. His eyebrows are knitted together, a sure sign he is annoyed.

"Beatrice," he mutters through gritted teeth. "What is your problem with me? And I know you were talking about me. I heard my name."

"Nice to see you still care about your sister," I comment.

"But what did I do now?"

"Caleb," I say, "I think we need to talk."

"We should have done that ages ago. But go on."

"I don't know Caleb... we used to be so close, and now, I feel like something's changed. You don't talk to me as much, you ignore me at school. And I found out today that you have a girlfriend."

His eyes widen. "Who told you that?"

"Okay, first, don't act so surprised, apparently half of our year knows about it. And second, it was Will who told me. My friend."

"Will. He's that blonde guy you talk to, right?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"I know what he looks like. We have a few classes together."

"Yeah. But that's not the point. Why didn't you tell me, Caleb? How come everyone else knew before me? Don't you trust me anymore? We used to tell each other everything..." I cringe halfway through my speech. I sound so suspicious, so possessive, like a girlfriend who isn't sure how much her boyfriend loves her.

"I just... didn't see the point. Besides, you didn't tell me about that big guy you were with today. His name's Albert, right?"

"Al, actually. Nobody our age calls him Albert."

"Oh. Anyway, what were you doing with him?"

"Oh, you know. Just talking."

"Hmm." My face must betray something, because he gives me a long look. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"I... don't really want to talk about it."

"But Beatrice... why do I have to tell you everything?"

I try to think of a valid excuse, but I come up with nothing. I don't want to admit it, but Caleb is right. How can I expect him to tell me what happens in his life when I haven't exactly been that honest with him either?

"Okay..." I say reluctantly. "Maybe I've been hiding things too, but why are you ignoring me? You can't say I ever did that to you."

"Look... Beatrice, I'm sorry about that, but you don't understand-"

"What? That you're ashamed of me?"

He nervously licks his lips, and stares at his feet as we walk.

"Beatrice? I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't want you there in front of my friends. You see, they're really smart, and I don't think they'd like you, or you them. You see, they kind of look down on anyone who's not as intelligent as them, and..."

"So I'm stupid. I'm too stupid for your friends - can't you see how ridiculous that sounds? - so you don't want me there. You're a strange person, Caleb. Just so you know I got ninety two percent on a test I studied the night before, and I got nearly everything right on a surprise test too."

"Yeah, but they're super smart..."

"So that condones what you did? You're actually trying to win me over with that type of excuse? Look, I don't want to hang out with your friends, I don't even like the sound of them. But I'm sure your precious friends won't object to a quick hello to your 'stupid' sister. And if they do, then they're not really your friends."

"Look, I'm sorry Beatrice-"

"Want to know how many times you said that? Probably ten. How about we change the subject? Caleb, tell me, what's going to happen when Susan finds out about your girlfriend?"

Caleb's face is pale. "She won't find out."

"Why wouldn't she? Don't we live right next to her? Aren't you planning on taking this girl Mel to our house?"

"Okay, okay. Maybe she will find out, but Beatrice... There was no future for us. I liked her, but it was never going to happen. I think we all knew that."

Again, I find myself agreeing with Caleb. The idea of Susan going out with anyone is absurd. I remember last year when I made some remark about a boy in our year. All I said was that he was sort of handsome. I didn't even like him - he was too cocky and obnoxious - but Susan visibly tensed up and changed the topic.

"You know what?" I say. "I think we should forget this happened and start afresh."

"Will you really forget, though?" he says with a shake of the head. "You're not exactly the forgive and forget type. Remember when I accidentally broke your toy cash register when we were five? Mom said you didn't speak to me for a week."

"I didn't?"

"You didn't." He chuckles, and I manage a smile too. This feels more normal, Caleb and I being able to talk to each other again.

"Yeah. Anyway... how did you even meet her? How did you get talking with a popular girl in the first place?"

The grin that forms on his face is almost goofy, the way he used to look when I teased him about Susan.

"Oh, you know. She asked me for help with her math homework at lunch, because she thought I'd be the right person to ask."

"Cocky much?"

"Hey, they're her words, not mine. Anyway, that was pretty much how it started. We became friends from there, and that's how we ended up together."

"That kind of sounds like how Mom and Dad met." They told us that she'd helped him in twelfth grade to pass his exams, and they'd fallen in love from there.

"I suppose it does. Oh look, we're here. And Beatrice... I'm sorry."

I nod. "Let's just forget about it." I laugh at Caleb's sceptical look. "Hey, I mean it this time. And... maybe we're all entitled to our secrets."

"Yeah. Okay. How about we still tell each other some of the more trivial things, but keep some things to ourselves til we're ready to share them?"

"Yeah. Okay, it's a deal."

As I knock on the door and wait for Mom to open up, I can't help smiling a little. I may have upset a friend, but I restored my friendship with my brother.

* * *

 **Mel is an OC who will become gradually more important, however rest assured that she won't overshadow the real Divergent characters at all. Also, maybe Tris is a little more immature (like expecting Caleb to tell her everything that happens, just like when they were kids and were living in a less complicated time), but she is two years younger than in the book - she wouldn't have quite the same level of maturity, though I do think she's still mature for a fourteen year old. Anyway, as always, please review! All reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	10. Saturday at Christina's House

**Hi everyone! I'm trying to keep Tris as accurate to _Divergent_ as I can in this chapter, but I'm also keeping her realistic to a modern day setting. I can't say anymore without spoiling the plot, but I'll explain more at the end of the chapter.**

 **biancalovestoread: I'm glad you're enjoying this! Also I always proofread my work, but I still get scared that I miss a grammar or spelling error, so I'm happy that it isn't the case! Thanks for all the reviews!**

 **Charms22: I'm glad you liked the Fourtris moment! I was worried that it was too short. Thank you for your review!**

 **LanaTobiasFailAtWriting: Thank you for reviewing!**

 **VortexWynd: Only time will tell! Thanks for the review!**

 **Wrenlovesreading: Yeah, I don't want Tobias to have an outright crush on Tris just yet because he's quite a bit older than her. Rather, like you said, I want him to be interested in her first, and then I want that interest to develop into more romantic feelings. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Guest: Glad you liked it and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thanks to Era1, ee73623 and LivinCandor for following, and Itm320 for following and favouriting!**

* * *

"Mom?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Beatrice."

I quickly munch my lettuce and swallow it down.

"Mom," I repeat in a clearer voice, "a friend of mine asked me today if I could go to her house tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"Of course," she answers to my surprise. I didn't expect her to give in that easily; I thought I'd have to use some persuasion. "What's her name?"

"Christina."

She nods and smiles. "That's a nice name. Do you want me to drive you there? Or can you walk?"

"Would you mind driving me there? Christina says it should only take fifteen minutes to get there by car."

"Of course not. I'm glad to see you've made new friends, Beatrice. You used to be always stuck with Susan and Robert."

"I thought you liked them, Mom."

"I did. I still do, but you weren't meeting any other people. Truth be told, I was starting to get a little worried. Do you talk to anyone else?"

"Oh yeah, there's Uriah on my bus, and then there's Will, and Al..." My voice trails off. I hope Al still counts as a friend. He has been avoiding me for a week now, going as far as to hanging out by himself at lunch breaks.

"That's a lot of boys," Dad mutters, speaking for the first time. "Who's Uriah?"

"Someone on our bus. He's in our year, Dad."

"What's he like?"

"He's very nice, Dad-"

"Is he a boyfriend?"

"Dad! No!" I stand up in my seat, but sit back down immediately. His grey-blue eyes, identical to mine in colour, give me a suspicious glare.

"And what about the other one... Will, is it?"

"He's just a friend too."

"Hmm. And the last one... what was his name again?"

"Al. He's the guy I did the poster with, Dad."

"Okay. And is there anything going on between you?"

"No, there isn't," I say with conviction, though I can't hide the sudden red hue that appears on my cheeks. I doubt he'd be pleased to discover that a boy asked me out. He just can't get it into his head that I am growing up, that I am no longer the tomboy my parents used to scold, or later on, the girl he patted on the head for being so good all the time. I shrink under his scrutiny, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

"I think that's enough, Andrew," Mom says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"And what about our neighbours, Beatrice?" he continues, ignoring Mom, but brushing off the topic of boys for now. "Have you forgotten about Susan and Robert? What's this girl Christina like?"

"She's really nice," I insist, stretching the truth a little. She means well, but she is still the type of person who would rather speak her mind than think of an individual's feelings. But I am not about to tell my father that - he would not be impressed.

"Andrew." Mom is firm now, a sense of finality to her tone. Dad clears his throat, and lets her speak.

"Beatrice, I will drive you to Christina's house tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mom," I say, throwing a grateful smile in her direction. As I finish off my meal, I can't help the excitement that builds up inside me. Something tells me I'll have a lot more fun at Christina's place than I ever had at Susan's.

* * *

It is Saturday, half three in the afternoon, and Mom and I are standing at Christina's doorstep. I ring the doorbell, and wait for my friend to appear. The door flies open, and a pair of arms surrounds me.

"Tris!" Christina says, pulling away and smiling.

"Hi," I say, glancing at my mother. She has a funny look on her face, undoubtedly confused at my apparent change of name, but she says nothing.

"Hello Christina," she says.

"Hi Mrs Prior!"

Mom shakes her head. "Call me Natalie."

"Okay... Natalie!"

"Well, I suppose I'll leave you here," Mom says to me. "I'll collect you at six, okay? Have a good time."

"Thanks Mom, bye!"

"Bye, Beatrice. And bye Christina."

Christina shuts the door and turns to me.

"Beatrice?" she snorts. "It's weird hearing you being called that. Don't your parents call you Tris?"

"No. I said that name on the spot on our first day. I didn't tell my parents - I don't think they'd get it."

"So you just made it up?"

"Well, someone on my bus gave me the nickname as a joke, and I ended up using it in homeroom. Do you know Uriah? Uriah Pedrad?"

"Uriah? I don't know him that well, but I've a few classes with him. So he was the one who gave you the name? Cool. Tris is way better than Beatrice, anyway. Beatrice is an old grannies' name."

I bite back a retort. I am yet to get used of Christina's outspoken ways.

She leads me into a room, her sitting room, judging from the couches and television. A girl, about twelve, sits in a slouched position, watching a reality TV show that I hear all the girls in my school talk about.

"Rose," Christina says. "This is Tris. Remember I was telling you about her yesterday?"

"That's Tris?" Rose raises her eyebrows, staring at my clothes: a baggy black t-shirt and old faded jeans. "I thought you said she was cool. What is she even wearing?"

I'd consider it an insult if I was actually bothered about my outfit.

"Rose, that is no way to welcome my friend. Apologise!"

"What? It's true. I'm just telling it like it is."

"Come on, Tris." Christina rolls her eyes and puts a hand on my shoulder. We run up the stairs together, and enter what appears to be her bedroom. A single bed is positioned in the middle of the room, covered with a black satin duvet patterned with pink flowers. A double-glazed window looks out onto a small garden, and a few items of clothing are strewn on the wooden floorboards, among them a crimson party dress that really should be stored carefully in a wardrobe.

Christina scoops up some of the clothes and dumps them on a chair.

"I'm so sorry about Rose," she says, closing an open cupboard by her bed. "She's kind of brat. Always was. You know. Because she's the youngest."

I blink.

"That's no excuse though, is it?" She gives me a wry smile. "I mean, you're the youngest in your house and you don't act like that at all. Blame my Mom. You really don't want to meet her. At least she's at work right now, so you're in luck!"

I nod. I now know why Christina is so brutally honest, though not as much as her sister.

"I know I sometimes say things I shouldn't, but Tris... please tell me I'm not that bad."

"No, you're not."

"Phew! I'm glad. I worry sometimes if I hurt people with what I say."

"I'm sure they don't take offence. What about your dad? Is he at work too?"

"My dad?" Her face twists like she's tasting something sour. "Mom left him when I was six." What she says next is riddled with curses: she explains how he spent their earnings on alcohol and came home drunk every night, which she still remembers despite her young age at the time. He never laid a finger on Christina or her family, but he did lose his temper and shout at them a lot. What he didn't know was that her mother had been saving up all along, and when she had enough money she left their home and moved into this one, just before Christina started school.

"So there it is... my messed up home life," she says. "We're fine now, though. He left us alone once they got a divorce. At least he wasn't violent, right?" she says with a weak laugh. "Anyway, what do you want to do? I have makeup..."

Judging from the way she's looking at me, I think I'm supposed to be excited.

"What?" she says. "Not into that kind of thing?"

"Not really."

"That's true, I guess... I've never seen you with any makeup. But you know, Tris... I think you need a makeover."

She grabs a spotty bag from the corner of her room. I shake my head vigorously.

"No Christina, I'm fine, I -"

"Please?"

"But I don't want a makeover! I... I think I look okay."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to get at, Tris! 'Okay' isn't good enough!"

"You'll never make me pretty, you know."

"Pretty, no. Lots of people are pretty. We're looking for interesting."

"'We'?"

"Come on Tris, please. Rose won't let me do makeovers on her anymore."

"Why not?"

"First off, we stopped getting on as we grew up, and second, she doesn't trust me anymore."

"Why?"

"Err... we may have had a teeny tiny problem with the mascara..."

"Christina, what happened. I'm not agreeing to this without knowing everything."

"Erm... I kind of stuck the mascara wand in her eye."

I hold my hands out. "I'm not leaving you near me."

"What? That was last year, Tris! I'm older now. And more responsible. Please, I just want to see what you'd look like with makeup. Please?"

I sigh. "Okay. Just promise you won't hurt me or do anything weird."

"Relax! I'm an expert at this." She unzips her bag and looks inside. "I don't have any foundation in your colour, but if you ever want to buy any, I would say get the lightest shade since you're so pale."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically. "And what's foundation?"

The look on her face is disbelieving.

"What?"

"How do you not know what foundation is? Looks like I'll have to educate you. After we're finished, of course. I think I'll start off with some mascara." She rummages through her bag and holds out a small, thin, silver item. She removes the cover, and hovers the wand over my eye. I panic internally. This can't end well. I shut my eyes tightly so she can't damage my vision, like she could have done to her sister.

"Tris!"

I open my eyes at her accusatory tone. She takes out a wipe, and cleans the area under my left eye. "You can't do that! Keep your eyes open. Come on Tris. Eyes on the ceiling."

"No way."

"Tris," she wines. "You promised! Come on. Look at the ceiling. Look up. Look up! And don't blink."

I try very, very hard to keep my eyes open as Christina brushes the black substance onto my eyelashes.

"Good!" she claps. "Now for the other eye."

This time it is a little harder, and I struggle not to blink. When she is finished, she applies eyeliner and dark grey eye-shadow. Then, she moves onto my mouth.

"Red lipstick?" I say, unable to keep the scepticism out of my voice.

"Don't worry, Tris. It's just an experiment."

She runs the lipstick across my lips, and narrows her eyes. "Hmm... I don't like it. It drains your face. Oh well." She cleans it off, leaving a bright red smear on the wipe. "Let's try pink. These are brand new, by the way."

I let her apply more lipstick. I don't want to admit it, but I'm starting to enjoy this a little too much, and I am itching to see the end result. After she is done with my face, Christina walks behind me and yanks my ponytail loose.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"Just thought you might look better with your hair down," she says, smoothing down my hair. "It's so nice and long. You should leave it like this more often."

"It gets uncomfortable."

"Maybe, but it looks really nice. How is it so straight? Do you use straighteners?"

I shake my head.

"Wow, you're so lucky."

I smile. I used to wish I had wavy tresses like Mom's, but maybe string-straight hair isn't so dull after all.

"Anyway, I think you're done. Want to see?"

"Yeah."

We walk a few steps until we reach the family bathroom.

"Close your eyes! Now... open!"

I gasp a little. I'm not sure what to make of this girl who stands in the mirror. She looks like me, but at the same time, she doesn't. My eyes, previously a dull greyish blue, are now a piercing shade thanks to Christina's mascara, eye-shadow and eyeliner. My lips are a darker shade of pink, not standing out too much, but enough to see a difference. Hanks of dark blonde hair frames my face, making my features softer, less severe.

"Tell me, what do you think?"

"I... It's nice."

Her triumph is obvious. "See? I told you, you can trust me." Her gaze then settles on my t-shirt and jeans. "But Tris... I hate to agree with Rose, but you could really do with a new wardrobe."

"What's wrong with these?"

"I'm not saying they're bad, it's just that they're... meh. Obviously we all have our not-so-nice clothes, but all the time?" She tugs at the hem of my t-shirt. "Look, Tris. You could fit two of you inside this thing."

"I'm too small, Christina. It's not my fault I can't always find clothes in my size. It's this or the kids' section. Besides, I don't think Mom or Dad would be happy if I wore tight clothes, and to be honest I'm not that comfortable with it either."

"But Tris, what age are you, fourteen? You're not a kid anymore, they need to understand that. And you're probably not looking hard enough; there are lots of shops that sell petite sizes."

She might be right. I think I've been in exactly two different clothes shops in my lifetime. But the idea of changing my style is a little daunting.

"You know Tris, I have something that might fit you. My granny gave me a dress last month. She kind of underestimated my size, by a lot. She forgets I've grown a bit since I'm ten."

She raises her eyebrows, and I snort as we return to her room. She takes a wrinkled black garment from her chest of drawers, and stretches it out in front of her.

"It's so small, it doesn't even fit Rose," she says, "but it might fit you. I don't even know why I kept it. I think it'd look nice, especially with your makeup. You can go into the bathroom and try it on if you like. I'll stay here and wait."

I fling the dress over the crook of my arm, heading for the bathroom once more. I lock the door behind me, take off my clothes and put on Christina's dress, careful not to ruin my makeup. I frown once it's on me. The hem only covers half of my thighs, and the v-neck differs from what I usually wear, and not in a good way. I return to Christina's room, and ask her what she thinks.

"Wow," she exclaims.

I release an uneasy chuckle. "Does it look weird on me?"

"Are you kidding me? We're going into Rose's room. Now."

She practically drags me into another room, this one ten times as messy as Christina's, and it's difficult to get around without stepping on Rose's clothes. A full length mirror is placed next to the window, and my friend gestures a hand towards it.

"Look at you. Just look! Now tell me that doesn't look way better than before!"

If my reflection looked different before, this time I am barely recognisable. The dress hugs my body in all the right places and accentuates my minimal curves. It is shorter than what I normally wear, but it the skirt is full and isn't stuck to my thighs, so I don't mind too much. The dress would never have fit a fourteen year old Christina, but on me, it looks like it was tailored especially for my figure. I finally look my age, maybe even a bit older.

"You like it," she says. "I told you it would suit you. You can keep it if you want."

"Are you sure?" I ask her breathlessly.

"Of course. I'll never wear it anyway. Keep the lipsticks, too. And you know what? You can also take the mascara and eyeliner. Think of it as a starter kit, okay? Just promise me you'll use them."

"I will. Thank you, Christina." I give her a quick hug before I realise what I'm doing. I let go abruptly, not caring for the smirk on her face.

"No need to act so stiff," she says, laughing. "We're friends. It's okay to hug."

"I know," I mumble, embarrassed. "I'm just not used to it. We never did that. My old friends, I mean."

"No?" She eyes me curiously. "What were they like?"

"They were okay, but they were just a bit too... serious."

She nods.

"But they were very nice too," I add hurriedly, not wanting to speak badly of Susan and Robert. They weren't the most adventurous, but I mustn't forget the good times. After all, if it wasn't for Robert, I may never have gained the confidence to make new friends in the first place.

"Sometimes nice is boring," she says. "There's no harm in letting go once in a while."

I nod in spite of myself. The Black twins _were_ boring, I see that now. Christina doesn't always say what people want to hear, but I can always count on her for a sincere opinion, and when she pays a compliment, I know she means it. The twins, on the other hand, were more concerned with sparing our feelings, sometimes even lying to make us feel better. I'm sure that Susan thought my story idea for a competition in sixth grade was terrible - my lack of imagination was to blame - but said it was good to please me, like always. I am also aware that Robert didn't like Caleb all that much as we grew older, but kept pretending because we were meant to be friends.

"So what will we do now?" I ask.

"How about we just talk?"

"Okay."

Just then, we notice a furious Rose standing at the doorway of her room.

"What are you doing in here?" she bellows.

"We just wanted to use your mirror. Is that a crime?"

"Get out." Rose's attention drift from Christina to me, and her mouth curls into a sneer. "Well, well, well. Look who turned into a swan."

Christina rolls her eyes. "Shut up, Rose. Come on Tris, let's leave. Happy now, little sister?"

We return to her bedroom, and sit on the bed.

"Again, I'm sorry Tris."

"It's okay." It's kind of a compliment anyway - even Rose thinks I look good.

"So, Tris. I was thinking. Are you _sure_ you don't want to join the Running Club?"

"Waste half a lunch break every week tiring myself out? No thank you. Besides, I told you already, I hate sports."

Christina has been pestering me to join the school Running Club every day of last week. I refused each time. I'd rather not go to the next class smelling of sweat and with aching muscles.

"Please, Tris. It's not just me - Will's doing it too."

I note how a dreamy haze appears in her eyes when she talks about Will.

"Speaking of Will," I say, hoping to divert the conversation, "when are you going to ask each other out?"

" _Tris_!" Her face changes colour, but I don't think she is mad at me.

"What?" I laugh. "I know you have a thing for each other."

"Please tell me it's not that obvious."

"Don't worry. It's only obvious to anyone who has eyes."

She groans, but is still smiling. "So... does he talk about me?"

"Only occasionally. But when he does talk about you... I just know, okay? He gets all smiley, and... yeah."

"Phew. I thought about that, but I wasn't sure. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, the Running Club. Come on Tris. It'll be fun, I promise."

I narrow my eyes. "What exactly do you do in this Running Club?"

"Yay, you're interested! We're making progress."

"I didn't say I was interested. I'm just curious."

"Well Tris, here's what happens. All you have to do is run around the school for twenty minutes. See? It's more fun than it sounds. And you still have plenty of time to eat afterwards if you want."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Not twenty minutes straight! You can stop and take breaks whenever you get tired. It's fun; you can talk to your friends and get fit at the same time. Oh yeah, and don't forget to bring sports clothes."

"I'll wear my P.E. shorts then, and I'll bring a spare top. Can I drop out if I don't like it?"

"Uhh... You can, I guess."

"How do I sign up?"

"So you're giving it a try?"

"I suppose I will. So, how do you sign up?"

"Just turn up at the P.E. hall as soon as the bell goes for big break, then tell Amar that you're new - he's the one who set up the club - and he'll write your name on the list."

"And I can definitely drop out?"

"Technically yes, but... there's two ways that I know of. One is that you tell him you want to leave, but I wouldn't recommend it because he'll give you a very long lecture about teenage obesity until you agree to stay. I've seen it happen. Or, you can just stop turning up. Don't let him see you walking around the school though - as far as I know your name stays on the list forever, and he'll force you back into the club. That has also happened before."

"Are you kidding?" I ask. "So there's no easy way to get out?"

"Not really, but it's fun, Tris. And Amar's friendlier than he sounds, I promise. Most people love it."

"Two people unsuccessfully tried to drop out in less than two months. I don't think I'll take any chances."

"Please, Tris. It's not like you do any other sports."

"That's because I hate them."

"Yeah, but running is easy once you practise."

"You're not going to stop until I say yes, are you."

"Probably not." She smirks.

I sigh. "When is it on."

"Every Monday."

"Great. An extra twenty minutes of sport on top of a double P.E. class on top of it being a Monday. Sounds fun. Here's the deal. I'll join your Running Club, but only if you agree to ask Will out."

"Aww, come on!" she replies loudly. "That's not fair!"

"I don't see why not."

"I mean... Tris! What's it to you if I go out with Will?"

"What's it to you if I take up running? Anyway, we're all getting tired of watching you and Will acting sappy around each other when you're not even official."

"Fine, just give me a week, okay?"

I shake my head. "No, Monday. Before the club starts. And let me know if you did it beforehand, or I won't join."

"No fair," she whines, holding out a hand.

"But it's still a deal?"

"Deal!" She squints her eyes shut as she shakes my hand, like it is a painful decision for her. I feel bad for forcing my friend into this, but I'm sure Will will say yes. Besides, Christina has no reason to complain. Her situation will most likely turn out well for her, whereas the same can't be said about mine. There's a good chance I'll hate the Running Club. If anything, it is unjust to me, not Christina.

Christina's phone beeps, and she picks it up.

"Do you have any social media accounts?" she asks.

"No."

"None at all?"

"No. My phone is too old, and I'm not allowed even if it wasn't."

She lets out a short laugh and stares at me in disbelief. "How do you live?"

"I just do. It's not a big deal."

"Wow. Want to watch me?"

"Okay."

I push in and watch in awe as she touches her screen, flicking through some pictures. It must be weird having one of those smartphones, to use a touchscreen instead of buttons. Weird, but cool.

"Who's that?" I ask as she stops scrolling and types something into a comment box. I see a picture of of a girl with perfect skin, and large eyes. She is pouting. She reminds me of a duck.

"That's Rose," she laughs, still typing.

"Rose?" I say. "That doesn't look anything like her."

She shrugs. "Welcome to the world of social media."

Christina clicks 'send' and I read what she has written. It is a rude and very mocking message. My parents would be appalled if I texted something like that to my brother.

"Want to take a selfie together?" she asks me, smiling.

"A selfie?"

"Please tell me you've heard of that."

"Of course I have. I'm not stupid. Do we have to do that weird duck face?"

"Not if you don't want to."

She holds the phone out in front of us, and we smile. A clicking sound lets us know that the picture is taken. Christina then shows me the screen. It is not a very flattering photo, and my makeup makes me look almost clownish.

"My camera's bad," she says in an apologetic tone. "Maybe if we use a sepia filter it'll look better."

A brownish hue covers the entire image, like the old-fashioned photos my mother has of my great grandparents. It improves the picture drastically.

"Do you mind if I upload it?" she asks, her finger hovering over the screen.

"Don't!" I warn her. "I don't want my face all over the internet."

"It won't! Only the people following me will see it."

"No, Christina, I'd rather if you didn't."

"Suit yourself," she shrugs, saving the picture but not uploading it for everyone to see. "It's a pity you're not on this site, Tris. It gets really fun. There are so many people on it too, like Al, even though he doesn't do much on it."

"Who else?"

"Let me see... that guy Uriah, he's on it."

"I thought you said you didn't know him that well. That you only had a few classes together."

"I don't, he's just an online friend."

"Why would you be online friends with someone you don't speak to?"

"I'm friends with strangers too. Relax, Tris. I block them if they get too creepy."

"I'm a bit worried for you, Christina. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

She shrugs her shoulders again, like making friends with strangers over the internet is a normal occurrence.

"You're starting to sound like Will," she says. "You know what he told me last month when I asked him to get an account? He said he'd never waste his time with such trash. Trash! He also said that it's illogical going on social media to talk to people you're going to see the next day. He's right, I guess, but still, he needs to get a life! Anyway, what should we do now? Oh, I know: let's watch some cute cat videos!"

"Oh. Okay."

"Why are you looking at me like that for? I love cats. I love all animals, actually. I used to have a bulldog called Chunker when I was a kid, but my dad took him away with him and we never saw him again. It was really sad." She sighs as she searches for videos, and I feel sorry for her. I've never had a pet, so I've never understood how people can get so attached to them, and how devastating it is when they're gone.

We watch a number of videos, and I have to admit that they were more entertaining than I thought they would be. Somehow we end up viewing weird optical illusion videos after half an hour, and feel stunned as the circles appear to move when they are, in fact, still. Before I know it, it is almost time for my Mom to collect me.

"I'd better change back into my own clothes," I say. "My parents will have a heart attack if they see me like this."

"Aww. It looked really nice. Oh well."

I change back into my jeans and t-shirt in the bathroom, and tie my hair back into its usual low ponytail. I think about removing the makeup, but after some contemplation I decide I don't really want to, so I leave it be.

The doorbell rings, so Christina and I go downstairs and open the door. Mom's eyes widen at first when she sees me, but after a moment, she smiles.

"Beatrice," she says, hugging me. "You look like you had a nice time. And hello to you too, Christina."

"Hi, Natalie."

"What's that in your hand, Beatrice?"

"It's makeup," Christina says to Mom. "I gave her the dress too, since it's too small for me."

"Very nice. Well Christina, Beatrice and I have to go home now. Have a nice evening! And thank you for the gifts."

"You're welcome! Bye Natalie, bye Tris!"

"Bye Christina!"

"I see you had a makeover," Mom says once Christina shuts the door.

"I did. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. It's nice to experiment sometimes. And what's with your friend calling you Tris?"

"Umm... It's a long story, Mom. And... what's foundation?"

* * *

 **Wow, this is the longest chapter so far! And for someone who isn't on social media and doesn't know too much about makeup, I really went on about it a lot... Hopefully my ignorance didn't show too much. And for the record, the social media site Christina's on is made up, an accumulation of some terms I've heard. And I'm not slamming social media - I don't know if I've said this before but the characters' opinions don't always represent mine.  
As for what I meant with the A/N above... look, I know that in _Divergent_ it takes a number of attempts before Tris starts to like the makeovers. However, she had a much stricter upbringing in the books than here. Therefore, I thought she'd warm to the idea of makeup much earlier here than in the books.  
Please review! And don't forget to vote on my poll if you haven't already!**


	11. Running Club

**Hi!**

 **Wrenlovesreading: Hope you like this chapter and thanks for reviewing! Also, long-distance running is actually the only sport I _like_ (I still don't love it), but I'm no expert, so hopefully I didn't make any factual errors!**

 **biancalovestoread: Thanks! Glad you like it!**

 **Charms22: Hmm, not to spoil anything but... just read this chapter. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **VortexWynd: I'm happy you liked it and thanks for the review! This chapter will take place back at school.**

 **LanaTobiasFailAtWriting: Thank you for both reviews!**

 **Thanks to Slimegamz37, theachan23 and Cobalt the SeaWing for following and favouriting, and Jennifer Pride for following!**

* * *

I don't wear Christina's makeup on Monday, even if I know she'd like to see me use it. It's pointless, since I have P.E. and Running Club today.

It is last class before big break, but I've still had no news from Christina. I haven't seen her or Will all day, and I hope she hasn't chickened out of her side of the deal. Not that it would be such a bad thing if she did - I am dreading the Running Club with every passing second - but they're my friends. They deserve to be happy.

When class is over I step out of the room and make my way towards the canteen. I meant what I said at Christina's house: I won't take up running unless she asks Will out. Just then, I see Christina with a huge smile on her face.

"Tris!" she squeals, hugging me tightly.

I smirk. "I take it he said yes?"

"Yes! I can't believe it, Tris - I have a boyfriend!"

"See? I knew he'd say yes."

Her smile turns mischievous. "This really was a good deal, at least from my point of view. So you know what this means!"

"Running Club," I say flatly.

"Yes! Come on, let's go!"

"How did you know I'd be here anyway?" I ask as she grabs my arm and drags me in the direction of the changing rooms, keeping her grip tight like she is afraid I might go back on our agreement.

"That's where you usually hang out."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Didn't get the chance."

When we arrive at the changing room I put on my black shorts from P.E. and a sleeveless top, which I conceal with an oversized hoodie. I tighten my ponytail, tucking a stray strand behind my ear. Once Christina is ready, we make our way into the P.E. hall.

Small groups of students, roughly amounting to twenty or thirty people altogether, stand by the walls of the hall. A young dark skinned man writes something in a notebook, black dreadlocks tied back from his face.

"Will!"

Will approaches us, giving me a small wave but mostly looking at Christina. She leans up and pecks his cheek, and they smile. My face feels hot, and I lower my eyes. Public displays of affection aren't cute, they are nauseating. I suppose I only have myself to blame. I was the one who made Christina ask him out.

I scan my surroundings to distract myself. Uriah, Marlene and Lynn laugh at something a fourth friend of theirs said. There seems to be nobody else here in my year, so I take a look at the other people. A group of girls, barely older than me. Two tall boys joking with each other. A person standing on his own. Zeke, Shauna, more people, Tobias.

I turn my head away so he doesn't spot me staring at him. I'm not sure if I like the idea of him being in this club. I'm going to embarrass myself with my lack of running skills, not to mention how disgusting I'll look after twenty minutes.

I divert my attention back to Will and Christina, who have stopped with their lovey-dovey behaviour, to my relief.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I ask them.

"Just go up to Amar over there and tell him you're new," Will says.

I walk towards Amar, and look up at him.

"Hi there," he smiles. "Haven't seen you here before."

"I'm new."

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Tris. Tris Prior."

"Grade?"

"Ninth."

He nods and scribbles my name down at the bottom of the list.

"I'm Amar," he says. "I hope you enjoy our Running Club. It's a great way to get fit."

 _I don't have a choice,_ I want to say, but instead, I smile back and rejoin my friends.

"Guys, girls," Amar calls out over the noise. "Welcome back. We have a new member here today," he says, waving a hand in my direction, "so we're doing well in terms of numbers."

Not technically. Two people already tried to quit this year.

"Since the weather's not that bad, we'll be running outside today. Enjoy it; we'll be doing it inside during the colder months. Also, we won't be running around the school building anymore as all of the other students keep walking into us. Therefore, from today onwards we will run on the tracks instead. I'll now call out everyone's name to make sure none of our members are missing out on this opportunity."

People turn and smirk at the boy standing on his own and one of the girls, presumably the two people who attempted to leave.

"I'll start off with the ninth graders. Uriah Pedrad."

"Here."

"Christina Kravitz."

"Here."

He calls out a few more names til he reaches mine. He moves onto the tenth and then the eleventh graders. He calls out Tobias's name; his surname is Eaton, my old principal's surname. Maybe they're related, or else it is just a coincidence. Amar calls out five more names for that year group: Shauna, Eric, Nita, Zeke and Lauren. Finally he moves onto the twelfth graders, with only two students, and after some warm-up exercises, we head outside.

Will and Christina run ahead of me. I scowl. I hope they won't be ignoring me like this for as long as they are together. At least Al is back to talking to me, so I won't always feel like a third-wheeler.

I try to sprint as fast as I can, but I am nowhere near as fast as anyone in front of me, who don't even look like they're trying. I feel my face heat up from the exertion, and within thirty seconds I have to stop to catch my breath. The fact that I have to do this in front of everyone who is walking around the school is even more humiliating, since there is a walkway next to the running tracks. Some people point at me and laugh, taking pleasure in my struggle. I must look terrible.

I am very self-conscious about my tight top, but unless I want to melt into a puddle, I'll have to take it off and tie it around my waist. My timing is bad, however. I hear some familiar chuckles, along with a wolf-whistle, and before I even look up, I know who they are: Peter, Drew and Molly.

"Whoa, better get out my camera! The moment we've all been waiting for: the school prude finally decides to show some skin!" Peter calls out. "What's wrong? Can't your little legs keep up with your friends?"

"Shut up, Peter!"

"Ooh, we're scared!" Drew mocks.

Their laughs follow them as they walk off, leaving me to stare after them in disgust as I put on my hoodie again. I'll show them. I'll show them I can run. I start sprinting again, but because of my previous exhaustion, I stop even earlier this time. I am tempted to remove my hoodie once more - anything not to feel so sticky - but I don't want a repeat of what happened with Peter and his lackeys.

This is ridiculous. I should never have joined this club. All I'm doing is humiliating myself. I stand in the same position for a few moments, closing my eyes. And there's not even an easy way to drop out...

"Tris."

I turn around in fright. Tobias is already a full lap ahead of me, faster than Amar himself. My cheeks are flushed, and not just from being unfit.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am."

"Are you sure? You seem a bit tired."

I look up. His face betrays no emotion, but I detect a softness in his voice, unlike how he usually speaks.

"You probably started too fast," he explains, looking at his sports watch. "You should start off slow first, then build up speed."

"If I did that, I'd only do one lap around the tracks."

He ignores my comment. "Want to try again?"

"No." I shake my head. "I only joined this because I had to."

"Why? Did your parents make you?"

"No." I look to the side, and see Amar racing past us.

"Come on," Amar says, looking back. "Try not to stop if you can."

"I made a deal with a friend," I say to Tobias, taking no notice of Amar. "And I can't go back on it."

"Ah."

I start running a bit despite myself, trying out Tobias's advice. As much as I feel like going faster, that method is clearly not working.

To my surprise, Tobias jogs right next to me.

"You don't have to wait for me," I tell him. "I can do this myself." In reality I don't mind Tobias being with me - but I don't want him to see me as weak, needing help.

"I know." A tiny smile forms on his lips. I hope he wasn't being sarcastic.

I turn my head forward, focusing on my task. I'm glad I listened to Tobias: I may be moving at the same speed as a turtle, but I am less tired.

A boy with lank, greasy hair jogs past us on his own. He slows down when he sees us, and smirks.

"Tobias," he nods.

"Eric." Tobias repeats the gesture.

"How are things going?"

"Good. You?"

"Same as always." Eric's smirk widens as his gaze drifts to me. "Didn't know you were helping the new kids, Tobias. Isn't that Amar's job?"

"I suppose it is."

"Hmm. Looks like she needs it. Doubt she'll last another week."

I scowl for the third time that day. I may be small, and I may look inadequate next to all the fit people. But I am _not_ fragile. I can't leave, so I will persevere as much as I can.

"Sometimes people surprise you," Tobias says.

"If you say so. Well, I'm going ahead now. See you, Tobias."

"Are you friends?" I ask Tobias once Eric is gone.

"We're in the same year, if that means anything."

I stay silent after that. I run a little faster, without pushing myself too much. Suddenly I remember Tobias's name during roll call, and figure that this is a good time to ask.

"You're surname's Eaton," I say. "Right?"

His expression stiffens. "Yes. Yes it is."

"My old principal's name was Mr Eaton," I continue. "Marcus Eaton. I was just wondering if you were related, by any chance."

"For someone two years younger than me, you ask me a lot of personal questions," he snaps, making me cringe at the emphasis on our age difference.

"It was only a question," I say, hoping my hurt isn't too obvious.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself next time," he replies, his brow furrowed. "In case you haven't noticed, I am not your friend. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to be doing than talking to fourteen year olds."

I refrain from saying that _he_ was the one who stopped to talk, not the other way around, as I watch him speed up, too quickly for me to keep up with him. Obviously I offended him, but how? I scavenge through my thoughts for anything I said that might have been considered hurtful, but I come up with nothing. Maybe Marcus Eaton is some uncle he never got on with, or perhaps his family is split, both sides being rivals with each other? Based on how Tobias reacted today, it looks as if I'll never find out.

Either way, it doesn't excuse how he treated me, and I feel my insides heat up with anger, giving me the energy to run more, faster. I did nothing wrong. I don't deserve to be insulted. I try to put it out of my mind as I carry on running, though he keeps popping up no matter how much I don't want him to.

* * *

 **All I can say is please don't be too alarmed by the ending of this chapter. Please review!**


	12. Old Friends

**Hi!**

 **Charms22: Glad you liked it! And about Tobias snapping at Tris... Was it really necessary? Maybe not, but my theory is that in this fanfic he doesn't open up to people very easily, not even to his friends (let alone a girl he barely knows). Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading: I'm glad you like the slow burn, sometimes I still wonder if I'm taking it a bit _too_ slow! I'm happy that it's not a problem with anyone; I just want to focus on Tris's other relationships too. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thanks to Krazzyjosy for following!**

* * *

I spend the next day thinking about Tobias, and how awkward it will be next Monday when we see each other again.

Caleb doesn't walk home with me this evening. He is meeting Mel in our town, near the bus stop - his first real date with her. Lucky for him, Dad approved after an hour of arguing, as long as they don't go further than a kiss on the lips.

When I reach home I see Susan standing outside her house, her mouth set in a forlorn frown. She is checking her smartphone, a device she didn't have before, and her hair, a duller shade of blonde than I remember, hangs limply over her shoulders.

"Hi Susan," I say as I approach her.

"Hello Beatrice," she nods, smiling a little. "How are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"I'm okay."

I am not fooled by her answer. She is not okay. Susan was never one to be open about her feelings, but her face says enough.

"Where's Robert?" I ask. It's unusual to see one of the Black twins without the other.

"He's inside," she says, putting her phone in her pocket.

"Is that a new phone?" I ask.

"Yes. We got one each for our birthday last week."

I immediately feel bad for not wishing them a happy birthday, but I'm sure they understand. I was never good at remembering important dates.

"Well... happy birthday."

"Thank you."

I avoid her eyes as I figure out what to say next. I shouldn't feel this uncomfortable around an old friend. I know her for years.

"How's Caleb?" she asks me after a bit, her cheeks rosy.

"He - he's fine." I bite my lip. I don't want to tell her that my brother has a girlfriend.

"Good."

More silence. I am about to say goodbye and head to my front door, but Susan grabs my shoulder. It feels odd, coming from her. Susan is not a tactile person.

"Beatrice," says Susan suddenly, her eyes wide with worry.

"Yeah?"

"Umm... What... what would you do if you knew your brother was taking drugs?"

"Susan?" I utter. What is she trying to say? For a second, I think she is talking about Caleb. Is my brother on drugs? If so, how come I didn't spot it? No, he can't be - he can't.

"It's Robert," she says in a shaky whisper. "I think he's on cocaine, I don't know what to do..."

My initial relief that it's not my brother is replaced by deep shock. Robert Black? Robert, the boy my parents think so highly of, the quiet neighbour I used to be friends with, is on drugs?

"Susan... are you sure?"

She nods, and her eyes well up with tears. "I found it in his room, and it's not sugar or anything like that. I may be naive, Beatrice, but I'm not stupid." She swallows. "He's been acting weird since we started high school. You wouldn't know him if you saw him, Beatrice. He dresses differently now, his hair is longer. Sometimes I still see the person he used to be, but other times I feel like I never knew him at all."

"If I were you, Susan," I say quietly, "I wouldn't say anything to Robert - but I would tell your parents, before it gets out of hand. Before he gets addicted, if he isn't already."

"I don't want to get him into trouble, Beatrice."

"You're not getting him into trouble. You're looking out for him. You're doing what's best for him. If Caleb was on drugs, I'd go straight to my Mom and Dad. You have to. You can't stay silent about this."

She gives me a doubtful look, and I wonder if Susan was always this idiotic. I don't understand how she thinks protecting his secret is better than protecting Robert himself. It might affect their relationship for a while, but it would be better for all in the long run. In fact, Robert doesn't even have to know that Susan told on him.

Then I realise why. It's not because she is scared, not even because she thinks her way is more beneficial. I think she has grown too used of her quiet, uneventful way of living. The second something serious like drugs becomes involved in her life, she is unsure of how to handle it, so she responds in the only way she knows: leaving it be. Hoping the problem will go away on its own. The passive way.

I also realise how much we have drifted apart in such a short period of time, and just how little we had in common. I like to tackle problems with action, but Susan prefers to accept the situation without trying to change anything. I see that now. The only reason why I didn't see it before is because we were never in a position like this. Now that we are, it is all so obvious.

"Just do what you think is best, okay?" I tell her. There's no point in forcing her to see things my way. I doubt she'll even consider speaking out about it.

"Thank you, Beatrice," she smiles. "I appreciate your help."

I wave goodbye, and don't look back as I enter my house.

Then I really think about Robert.

I don't see the timid, kind-hearted boy I used to play with almost everyday. I see an emaciated drug addict, living only for his next high, but never feeling satisfied for long. I see a thief, stealing from his parents' wallets - all that matters to him is cocaine, not family, not friendships, not grades, not real life. I see him dead in a hospital bed after overdosing. I see his family crying, wondering what they did wrong and what they could have done better. It is just my imagination - for now.

I can't let it become a reality.

So when my parents ask me how my day went, the first thing I mention is Robert. Because I can't stand by while my neighbour gradually turns into that imaginary version of the boy I was once best friends with.

* * *

 **This chapter is a little more serious than the last ones, but hopefully I tackled the topic well enough. It's not something I have experience with, so... please review and let me know what you thought!**


	13. Trick Or Treat

**Hope you enjoy the latest update!**

 **Charms22:** **Glad you liked it the more serious subject matter, and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **Robert's reasons for taking drugs may or not be revealed later; the point I was trying to put across is that even the seemingly 'perfect' people can go down a bad route, and that even if Robert and Susan had went to the same high school as Tris and Caleb, everything might have changed anyway - they mightn't have gotten on as much one way or the other. Also I kind of took the idea of Robert transferring to Amity and their peace serum and went from there, since it is pretty much a drug. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Cobalt the SeaWing:** **I'm happy you liked it! As for my reasons for including this chapter - it wasn't really to affect her relationships, it was more for the reasons I mentioned above (her 'perfect' friends could make mistakes too, and even if Robert _had_ gone to her high school their relationship with each other might have changed anyway). Thanks for reviewing!**

 **theachan23:** **Thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

It is the thirty first of October, my third time attending Running Club. It is also, of course, Halloween. All four of us will be trick or treating in my neighbourhood tonight, Al and Will and Christina and me, along with Caleb, his girlfriend, and a couple of his friends. We'll have to make the most of it, as we are all fourteen excluding Caleb, and it is likely to be our last time.

Tobias ignored me last Monday while we were running, and I didn't acknowledge him. I have no reason to want to talk to him. It is not the first time he was mean to me, after all.

Which is why it doesn't make sense that when I see a pretty girl in his year - Nita - trying to flirt with him during today's warm-up exercises, giving him sidelong glances and batting her eyelids when he says something to her, I feel my blood boil with rage. It also shouldn't matter to me when he shakes off her hand after she accidentally-on-purpose rubs his arm, but it does. I can't help the grin that forms on my face after that.

I never thought I'd be like the girls in high school soaps, having crushes on handsome older boys they have no chance with, jealous over any female attention they get, but I find myself relating to them. I used to laugh at them - why couldn't they just move on and find someone in their own league? - but then, I had never experienced it myself. Now I know how it feels, the frustration of liking Tobias, a person so closed-off and aloof and too old for me.

The weather is cold, so we run inside the P.E. hall today. I don't feel any resentment this time when Will and Christina go ahead together - they were kind enough to stay with me last week.

I take a look at Nita, my mouth curling into a subtle smirk when I see how far Tobias is from her. My glee fades, however, when I notice just how pretty she is compared to me. She is tall, but not too tall; thin, but not scrawny. Black leggings fit her toned legs perfectly, and a tight top shows off her slender figure. Her silky brown ponytail bobs in time to her steps, and her skin keeps its even tan despite all the exercise she is doing.

I don't see how my ghostly white complexion, frail body and baggy clothes can compete against that.

I look away and concentrate on myself. I am not much better than the first day in terms of speed, but I am able to keep going for longer periods of time. For all his faults, Tobias did give me good advice.

When time is up I head for the changing rooms. Just before I enter, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around.

It's Tobias.

"Tris," he says.

I hope my face doesn't betray any emotion.

"Is it getting any better? The running, I mean."

A hint of warmth is visible in his midnight blue eyes, and it would be so easy to accept what I think is an apology, so easy to forget and smile and give him an answer.

Instead, I make my voice as matter-of-fact as possible.

"For someone two years older than me," I say, "you're a little too concerned about my well-being. We're not friends, remember?"

I don't wait for his reaction. I turn on my heel and return to what I was doing, unable to suppress a triumphant, but rueful grin once he can't see my face.

* * *

I get dressed in black after dinner, and after multiple attempts, my makeup finally looks decent. Christina keeps asking me to use the makeup she gave me, and I figured that tonight would be the best time since I am not bothered to put it on just for school.

But I wasn't prepared for how hard it was going to be. It took multiple attempts to make the eyeliner on one eye match the other. Eventually I ditched it altogether and settled for foundation and mascara, with a touch of lipstick.

I scoop my hair into a high ponytail, and enter the kitchen where Mom and Caleb are busy emptying packets of candy into a large bowl. As I join in, I wonder what it'll be like for my brother to meet my friends, and for me to see his. Based on what he told me I don't like the sound of them, but maybe I should give them a chance.

The doorbell rings just as we finish our task, followed by two knocks on our door. Caleb and I told our friends to do this, so we would know that they weren't trick or treaters. I open up, and somebody dressed in white makes spooky sounds. I think it's Christina - the height of person in front of me matches hers.

"Christina?" I say in a questioning tone, in case I'm wrong.

She removes the white sheet from her head and grins. "How did you know it was me?"

I shrug. "Lucky guess."

Her look of surprise fades. She laughs a little, and stares a little too long at my brother, who just arrived to my side. "Wow," she says. "I've seen your brother before, Tris, but I didn't realise he was that hot."

Caleb's mouth drops open at her bluntness.

"Wait a minute." He narrows his eyes. "Don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Well, I do, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate other guys' good looks, right? And how did you know that, anyway?" She laughs. "You're both kind of spooking me out. And yes, pun intended."

I laugh, but Caleb looks confused.

"Spooked out? Because it's Halloween?"

" _Oh_. Ha ha." His smile is forced; I don't think Caleb is fond of Christina. Thankfully, Christina doesn't look bothered and moves on.

"Your makeup's nice, Tris," she says. "Did you use the things I gave you?"

"Yes." I decide not to tell her how much time it took.

"It's really nice. Simple, but nice."

I smile. Christina doesn't lie, so I take her compliments seriously.

I glance at Caleb, who is picking at his cuticles, looking bored. I feel a flash of irritation. Not everybody likes Christina - her loud, outspoken ways are off-putting for some - but what annoys me is that Caleb isn't even trying.

"Anyway, we'd better get our buckets ready," I say, leading everyone into the kitchen. Caleb isn't as nice as I once thought he was - it's something I'm just going to have to accept.

Somebody else rings the bell and raps on the door twice.

"I'll get that," Caleb says. Christina and I wait. When my brother comes back, a blonde girl dressed as a Goth - Mel - is linking arms with him. She eyes both of us up and down.

"Hi!" Christina says, feeling less awkward than I do. "You're Mel, right?"

"Yep."

"And you're Caleb's girlfriend."

"I am," she replies, with a smile that reminds me of a toothpaste advertisement. "And you're..."

"Christina."

"Nice to meet you, Christina!" She turns to me. "And you must be Caleb's sister, Tris."

I nod.

"Nice to meet you too, Tris," she says in sugary tones. "Caleb told me all about you. I think we're going to get on just fine."

For a popular girl, she is not as mean and horrible as I thought she would be. She is friendly enough, if a little patronising - though I don't think it's intentional. I should have known Caleb wouldn't pick some one unpleasant.

Mom returns, and greets our friends. Soon afterwards, Al, Will and two of Caleb's friends arrive, who introduce themselves as Jon and Stanley. They stare at me and Christina with disdain as we exchange weak jokes with each other, and roll their eyes at my friend's loud laugh. Caleb wasn't wrong when he said we wouldn't like each other a while back, though I wasn't expecting them to be this bad.

I watch Al as he talks to Will. He seems happy, but there is something off about his smile - his eyes don't crinkle as they should, and they are glazed, as if he is only half-listening. He looks almost sad, tired, but it could be just down to the change in routine. Al is introverted, and doesn't go out much to meet people.

"Can we go now, Mom?" I ask after a bit.

"Of course," she says, hugging me and Caleb. "Be careful out there, okay? And only go around the neighbourhood. Andrew! They're going!"

Dad is downstairs in seconds, his hair tousled from his shower, the buttons on his shirt in the wrong holes.

"Are these your friends?" he asks.

"Yes Dad," I say. "Dad, this is Christina, Will and Al."

Dad nods and shakes their hand.

"And Dad, this is my girlfriend Mel," Caleb says, his face flushed. "And these are my friends Jon and Stanley."

Dad greets them too, but throws a suspicious look in Mel's way.

"See you later, kids," he says, his smile returning as he embraces us. "Take care. And behave."

"Don't worry, Dad. We'll be careful. Bye!"

"Bye!"

We step outside the door and shut it, and I glance around. Our neighbourhood looks different at Halloween night. Jack o' lanterns grin toothily at us as we walk on the cracked pavement, and witches and goblins watch us from the windows, their pointy noses visible thanks to the moonlight. Mom and Dad used to take us trick or treating until we were in third grade, but although we are much older now, the magic isn't fully gone just yet.

We start off at Susan and Robert's house, but thankfully they are not in - Caleb would probably feel awkward around Susan because of Mel, and I don't think I'll see Robert in the same way again. Mr Black spoke to my parents and thanked them for alerting him about Robert's drug use, and as far as I know he isn't aware that I was the one who told Mom and Dad. But it still feels weird.

We then rush off to all the other houses. Some open up with a smile, others have the lights off and keep the door closed, either because they are not at home or they simply don't want to deal with trick or treaters. One remarks that we are too old for this, but still gives us candy, while an old lady replies with 'trick' when she opens the door. We don't know what to make of that, and since there is no candy to be seen, we simply move on to the next house.

We are just about to reach the final house, when I happen to look to the side and notice something odd in the distance. A person with a zombie mask is pulling a princess's jack o'lantern bucket, candy spilling out over the edges. She cries out softly as he prises it from her fingers, and a muffled laugh escapes from underneath his rubber mask.

I know from his scrawny build that the zombie is most likely Justin, the neighbourhood bully, and the princess is Elia, an eight year old who is very smart for her age. Justin only torments those who are smaller than him, since he lacks the physical strength to pick on people his own size. He is about a year younger than me, so he never bothered me or my friends, but even so, I have never liked him.

"Hey!" I call out, running towards him. He looks up, distracted, but still keeps his hand on the bucket.

"Leave her alone!" I say.

"Or what?" he says. I can hear the smirk in his voice, and I step in front of him.

"Unless you want trouble, you'll give her back her candy," I say in a low voice.

When he doesn't react immediately, I attempt to take the bucket off him - but he is stronger than me. He must be thirteen years of age - old enough for me not to go easy on him. I kick him in the groin and grab the candy off him as he yells in pain.

"Here," I say, giving it back to Elia. "Make sure nobody else gives you a hard time, okay?"

"Okay!" She smiles and thanks me, adjusting her glasses. She runs off, and I rejoin my friends, who are all staring at me.

"What happened there?" Will asks me.

"Justin," I say as Caleb nods in understanding. I turn to the others and explain. "He lives close by. He was bullying that girl, stealing her candy."

"Oh. I was kind of confused, I didn't know what was happening there," Mel says, laughing nervously.

"But good job for standing up to him!" Christina says, patting me on the back.

The others praise me and put their arms around me, much to my discomfort. I want to tell them that he was younger than me, that it isn't a big deal. But it would sound like fake modesty, so I stay quiet.

We run back to my place, and once we're inside we eat some of what we got. Caleb and I don't eat sweet foods often, and while we slowly suck on lemon lollipops, everyone else gobbles up what they have til their buckets and plastic bags are almost empty within minutes.

There is a clear divide between my friends and Caleb's, so while my brother, Jon and Stanley talk about their test answers, with an uninterested Mel listening politely, the rest of us joke amongst ourselves while they wait for their parents to collect them. The first one to leave is Al, followed by Will, Jon, Christina, Stanley and finally, Mel. When everyone is gone, Caleb sighs and smiles.

"That was more fun than I thought it would be," he remarks.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I thought we were too big for that kind of thing. I thought I'd be bored." He digs his teeth into a milk chocolate bar. I don't remind him that he doesn't usually eat that amount of candy, and that he might feel sick if he doesn't stop.

"Maybe we are," I say instead, "but who cares? I'm sure we're not the only ones."

"That woman cared," he laughs. "You know, the one who said-"

"'Aren't you a little too old for trick or treating?'" I say in my best imitation of her voice - low and raspy, like she has been smoking for years.

Caleb laughs some more.

"Anyway," he says after a bit. "That Justin is still the same jerk as usual. I mean, robbing candy off a little girl? What would he want more candy for? All he had to do was knock on all the doors around him."

I roll my eyes. "Maybe he'll stop someday, but until then, we just have to hope that someone's always there to stop him."

"Yeah. Like you were tonight."

I give an awkward laugh. "We should go to bed now," I comment, glancing at the clock. "We won't be able to get up tomorrow."

"Yeah. We should."

* * *

 **I wouldn't say I liked writing this chapter that much, but I couldn't just leave the Running Club part on its own. Also, it was needed to give Mel some character development, and to show what type of friends Caleb has - intelligent, but thinking they are better than everyone else. Also, I was originally going to have Peter, Molly and Drew steal Elia's candy just to be jerks, but I thought it would be too coincidental - besides, I don't want Peter to live that near to Tris. Please review!**


	14. An Eventful Saturday

**I need to get more creative with some of my chapter names...**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **Yeah, I didn't want their relationship to be perfect, because they fought a lot in the books - it'd be a bit OOC if they _always_ got on, unless I was just writing a fluffy fanfic (which isn't really what I'm aiming for, though of course they will get moments like that in future chapters). Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Charms22:** **I'm not really going to develop Caleb's friends, so if you dislike them now you probably still won't like them for the entire fanfic. However, Mel will become more relevant to the plot, so I'm hoping to give her a little more depth in future chapters. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thenextbigbook:** **I'm glad you like my story!**

 **biancalovestoread:** **Thank you for your review and I'm happy you liked it!**

 **Cobalt the SeaWing:** **I'm glad you liked the last chapter, especially the Trick or Treat part, since I wasn't too sure about parts of it (for example, some younger teenagers do go trick or treating where I'm from, but I'm not sure if it's the same in America. I was also concerned about the part where Tris stands up for Elia, but I didn't leave it out because I thought the scene would be a little boring otherwise). Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thanks to walkwithsue and m1129 for following, and Cutebabybush for favouriting!**

* * *

Apparently Christina had a lot of fun on Halloween night at my house, so she suggested that we meet up today at my house again. She also didn't seem fully satisfied with my efforts at putting on my makeup - now, she wants me to wear her makeup _and_ leave my hair down. I was annoyed, but I didn't have the heart to say no. I only hope it won't be too much of an annoyance when we eat - we will be going to Butterfly Cafe, my local coffee shop, and I don't want any strands to fall into my food.

I look at the clock. Five to two. They should be here any minute now. Will's mother offered to drive them all to my house, so they'll arrive at the same time.

"Beatrice!" Mom calls. "They're here!"

I run downstairs, and see all three of my friends standing at the door. I greet them, and notice a metallic blue car parked in our driveway. A woman with impeccably straight hair sits in the driver's seat, watching us.

Once we've exchanged pleasantries and said goodbye to my mother and father, and Will's mom drives away, we leave my neighbourhood and start chatting.

"Your parents are so nice," Christina says to me. "My mom used to be so rude when my old friends came over."

"Mine are just embarrassing," Al says. His eyes meet mine for a second, before averting them quickly.

"And mine kind of act snobby, even though we're not much better off than anyone I know," Will sighs. "Mom is, anyway. Dad just agrees with her. It takes a while to get them to like you."

"I think they nearly had a heart attack when you told them I was your girlfriend that day," Christina says, laughing. I snort too - I remember her telling me about her visit to Will's house last week. It didn't go well, to say the least.

Will shakes his head, smiling. "The more friendly you tried to be, the more they hated you. That's why I kicked you under the table that time. You didn't have to make out I was some kind of abusive boyfriend in front of my family."

"I didn't do that!"

"I know, but the way you said it... you made it sound like I did it on purpose. Which I did, but I was only trying to help you. Because you see, Christina..." He takes on a more serious tone. "They can easily stop me from being with you if they think you're a bad influence on me."

Christina pouts. "So you're ashamed of me."

"What? No Christina, that's not what I said. I meant that it's important you make a good impression on my family, unless you want them to force us to break up."

"No point in going out with me if you can't accept the way I am," she mutters, scowling a little and looking ahead. Will simply sighs. Dejectedly, almost like he's used to this kind of reaction from his girlfriend. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised.

I feel weird watching them. Seeing them kiss is awkward, but witnessing a couple's fight is worse.

We reach my town after a while, and we pass the places that are so familiar to me. Our nearest grocery store; Tori's Tattoo Parlour; the hairdresser's; a few supermarkets; and finally, Butterfly Cafe, painted in italics on a faded yellow sign.

The bell tinkles as we enter. I've only been here twice before: once after arriving from a flight, and another time for my twelfth birthday. The lemon yellow wallpaper is peeling, but otherwise match the decor of the place. Mahogany tables with accompanying cushioned chairs are scattered casually throughout the cafe, and as we take a seat, I notice that there are butterflies and flowers painted at the bottom of the walls - pink and blue and green, roses and poppies and daisies. It is the type of place that would look pleasantly quaint in spring or summer, with sunshine radiating through the glass, but in the frosty month of November, the dull, miserable weather outlines how run down the cafe is, making the bright colours seem almost as grey as outside.

I take a look at the people around me. An elderly couple smile at each other lovingly, a gesture that would warm anyone's heart. A family of four talk and laugh, creating a lot of noise. A younger couple eat in silence, concentrating on their food. I also see a group of teenagers, and I look closely at them. I recognise Zeke and Shauna, and a redhead sits with them, talking to a dark haired boy and obscuring my view of him. I crane my neck to see who he is. As it turns out, it's Tobias.

I hope nobody notices the colour on my cheeks. Why does he have to be here of all places? I feel rattled, irritated; I don't want him here while I'm having fun with my friends. I like knowing he is here, but at the same time, I don't.

I find myself staring at him despite myself. I can't see him well from the angle I am at, but it is him, I would know him anywhere. He looks comically out of place with his dark clothes and slight scowl, and I smile inwardly.

The redhead talks to Tobias, while Zeke leans over his meal, kissing Shauna lightly on the lips. Then I get it - it's a date, a double date. I turn away.

"Are you okay?" Will asks, watching me closely. "You look kind of sour."

"I'm fine," I reply as he narrows his eyes, but thankfully saying nothing.

A chestnut haired waitress bounds towards us, exuding energy and cheerfulness with her wide smile.

"Can I take your order?" she chirps.

"I'd like a ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of orange juice, please," I say.

As all of my friends place their orders, I turn to see Tobias once more. The redhead is standing up, and pushes in her chair; Tobias says something to her. The girl ignores him, and storms out of Butterfly Cafe, her mouth pressed into a deep frown, her eyebrows drawn in. Tobias simply stares after her, looking tired, while Zeke and Shauna continue talking to each other, oblivious to what happened.

"That was so much fun when we went trick or treating, wasn't it?" Christina says suddenly. I quickly twist my head forward, and Will gives me a puzzled look. I pray he doesn't realise what's going on. I am not ready to tell them about Tobias.

"You really enjoyed it, didn't you," I laugh, taking my eyes off Will.

"What? I hadn't done it in years."

"I never did it," Will says. "Cara and I asked our parents every year, but they said no. They said we'd get sick from all the sweets. Said there was no point."

"That's sad," Christina says. "I did it every year until I was ten. I remember when we knocked on our neighbours' door one time, and Rose had the scariest mask on, and when they opened up, their son saw Rose and screamed like a girl. It was hilarious! Oh, and there was this other time..."

I stop listening and return to watching Tobias. I can see him much clearer now that the redhead is gone. He is very good-looking, even with his hooked nose and ears that stick out a bit too far. He is tall, dark and handsome, everything most girls would want in a guy, but he has walls built around him, walls that are hard to break down.

His eyes shift from his slice of chocolate cake to me, and I think about talking to my friends again so he doesn't notice me, but it's too late. It looks as if he is about to smile, but thinks better of it. Instead, he just nods, and goes back to eating his cake. Somewhat disappointed, I turn back to the others, finding that a sandwich and a glass of juice have been put in front of me. I must have missed the waitress coming. I feel ashamed of my bad manners.

"What's wrong, Tris?" Christina asks, scanning the area behind us. "You were just staring behind you. Is there something up back there?"

A knowing smile is plastered on Will's face. "I think it's more a 'someone' than a 'something'. Am I right, Tris?"

My flushed cheeks are the answer to his question.

He lowers his voice and raises an eyebrow. "Either you have an unhealthy fixation with that guy - Tobias, isn't it? - or you have a thing for him."

"Oh, now I get it!" Christina says, realisation dawning on her face. "So that's why you were with him a few weeks ago!"

"You... saw us?"

Will smirks. "I have to say, I'm surprised you didn't notice us running past you. You must have been really distracted by him."

"I can't believe it! At last, we found out who Tris likes!"

Christina manages to make that sentence sound like a shout, and I scowl. The whole cafe must have heard her, and I'm not sure if I've hidden my feelings for Tobias well enough. I don't want him guessing that he's the one I like.

I glance at Al, who isn't joining in with Will and Christina. His shoulders are slumped, and he frowns at his plate. I thought he was over me at this point. Turns out I was wrong.

"Can we talk about something else now?" I whine. I ask it for both me and Al - I don't want to hurt him any more than I have already. "Besides, we had a fight. I don't think we'll be hanging out any time soon."

"Oh? Tell me what happened!"

"Well..." I hesitate. "I wouldn't say it was a _fight_ , just... We don't get on that well when we're together."

"A love-hate relationship, I see."

I sigh and glower at Christina.

"You're overreacting," I say. "He doesn't like me."

"How do you know? He could."

"I just know!" I'm starting to get tired of this conversation. "Now can we move on to something else?"

She pouts, but obeys. I pick up my sandwich, and bite into it. The bread tastes stale, but I'm too hungry to care since I skipped dinner today. I avoid acknowledging Tobias, so I don't get teased by my friends again. I hear the sound of multiple chairs scraping off the floor from behind - Tobias, Shauna and Zeke are leaving. Zeke and Shauna have their arms around each other as they head for the exit, while an annoyed Tobias walks a few steps behind.

Then he turns his head in our direction - in my direction. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a half-smile, which only lasts for a few seconds before he looks away. I am embarrassed - he must have caught me gawping at him.

But when all three of them are outside and they pass the large window, Tobias looks through the glass at me once more. Then they are gone, and I'm left a little dazed.

"Hello? Earth to Tris?" Will smirks, waving a hand in front of my face.

"' _You're overreacting Christina, he doesn't like me at all,_ '" Christina says in a poor imitation of my voice. "We all saw that, didn't we Will? Al?"

"Yeah," Al says with a chuckle that sounds forced.

"He was _staring_ at you and _smiling_ ," Christina says, getting a bit too excited. "It was _adorable_! And you were like this!" She makes a dopey face, widening her eyes and letting her jaw drop.

I blush. "Please don't tell me I looked like that."

"Not really, but something like it. Anyway, whatever's going on between the two of you, I think you should make up. It's obvious you're not really mad at each other."

"I'll think about it," I mutter, glancing at everyone's plates. Everyone is finished, apart from Al, who doesn't look like he's going to finish it anytime soon. "We'd better leave now, anyway, since we've all eaten."

"Yeah."

We pay for our food, and walk out the door.

"Where do you want to go now?" I ask.

"I think Christina wants to go to the playground." Will smiles and looks at his girlfriend, who is staring across the street.

"What? I always go to the playground with Rose."

"I'm sure there's a sign outside every playground that says it's only for under twelves."

"You actually read the rules?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Pfft. Nobody cares about the rules, Will. What are they going to do, kick us out because we're two years over the age limit? Besides, we can just say Tris is our little sister and we're taking care of her. There's no law against that, is there?"

I scowl. "Thank you, Christina. It's nice to know that you think I look like a child."

"What? You are the smallest. And the youngest looking."

"But Christina, about the sister thing," Will says, looking uncomfortable. "Not to sound racist, I'm just stating a fact, but your skin tone is much darker than ours..."

"Fine. You're my cousins. Big deal. Like they're going to care if we're too old for playgrounds. There are people out there who drive while they're drunk and take drugs, do you really think the police will be worried about four innocent teenagers playing on the see-saws? Give me a break, Will."

"You know what?" I say, secretly longing to go to the playground too. "I think we should just go in. If adults can go in with their children, then so can we."

"Yeah Will, let your hair down," Christina says, nudging him in the ribs.

Will sighs, but relents. Al opens the multicoloured gate, and we go inside. The playground is empty, most likely due to the cold, so we have the whole place to ourselves. Will sits on a wooden bench and takes out his phone, as does Al, while Christina heads for the swings. After a moment's hesitation, I follow her, checking the seat to see if it's wet. I sit down, and swing higher, and higher, and higher, but not as high as Christina, who squeals with delight like an overexcited child.

I close my eyes as the frosty wind hits my face. I had forgotten how much I used to enjoy visiting the playground when I was younger. I once made Caleb cry here, when we were at the slide. I became impatient while he was sitting at the top, and I pushed him without warning so I could get my turn. He screamed the whole way down and landed at the bottom with a bump. He couldn't stop crying afterwards. I got no ice-cream that day as a punishment, while Caleb received a lemon popsicle, his favourite. I was only seven, but I still remember his smug smile as he licked his treat slowly, in a taunting manner.

That is the only bad experience I had here. There were many good times: my first time on the big-kid swings, playing hide and seek with my friends, the rushes of excitement I felt as I dared to slide down face first, as I begged Dad to spin me faster and faster on the carousel til I got so dizzy I could barely stand when I came off it.

I jolt back to reality when a pair of large hands suddenly push me forward. After I recover from the shock, I turn around. It's Al, smiling slightly as I face him.

"Thought I might help you beat Christina," he grins.

"Hey! No fair! I didn't know this was a competition!" she protests, her face taking on a determined expression as she pushes herself higher.

"Thanks Al," I laugh, turning away.

Will looks up from his phone, smiling, and stares at Christina. She lets go of one of the handles, and waves at him. Despite their bickering, it is clear that they are a well matched couple.

I don't know why I didn't feel like this before, but I kind of pity Al. It must be tough for him, especially now that he knows about Tobias. And he's still being so kind - it's more than a lot of boys would do. Maybe seeing Nita flirting with Tobias made me empathise with Al's situation.

Once he stops pushing and Christina and I get off the swings, my hair is a mess, wild and unkempt, but I don't care. It represents all the fun I had, in a way.

We join Will on the bench, and Christina peers at the screen of his phone. She raises her eyebrows.

"I didn't know you read fanfiction," she says.

"Only occasionally," he shrugs. "If I've nothing better to do."

"What's fanfiction?" I ask.

"It's... okay, say there's this book, or movie, or TV series you really like. You like it so much, you write your own story about it. If you want, you can publish it online for people like me to read."

I nod. I can't imagine loving something so much that I'd want to write a story about it, but I don't mention that to Will.

"We'd better get going," I say, checking my watch. "Our time's almost up, and I don't want to keep your mom waiting."

"Yeah, that's true," Will says. "She'll flip if we're too late."

The gate creaks as we leave the playground, and we head towards my house. The air is very chilly now, and my thin sweater isn't doing a great job in keeping out the cold. I wonder how much it'll snow this year. The past few winters have had little snow, barely enough to make a proper snowman, so I don't have much hope.

"Are you okay?" Christina asks. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine," I reply, though my teeth chatter.

"You're not," Al says. "I can give you my jacket if you want."

"Are you kidding?" Christina snickers. "If she tried to put on your jacket, it would look more like a dress!"

"And if Al tried on Tris's jumper, it'd look like a crop top," Will chuckles.

I sigh. I'll never know why, but the height difference between me and Al fascinates a lot of people.

"Thanks Al," I say, "but I'm fine. Honestly."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Will gives me a doubtful look.

"What? I am fine. I have a sweater on. No need to look at me like that."

"We were just asking," Christina says, put out.

I know they are only being nice to me - but I'm still annoyed at the way they are looking at me, like I'm too frail to possibly withstand the weather. And for the first time since I met them, I start to doubt if they're really my friends. They don't know me as well as they should, if they think I'm that feeble. They are funny and kind, but so are thousands of other people. I need people who believe in me, not friends who shield me from every evil in the world. I have my parents for that.

There is a small amount of tension between me and the others, and I don't speak much as we approach my neighbourhood. I'm still shivering, but I hardly notice it. My head feels hot from frustration.

I knock on my door, noticing Will's mother's car. For her to be here already, she must have taken our ninety minute time limit literally.

Dad answers the door, and greets us as we enter. Mom, Mrs Lloyd-Hughes and Caleb are sitting on the couch, with the latter two talking about oxygen, by the sounds of it. I knew Caleb liked studying, but I didn't realise that love of learning extended to normal conversation.

We say hello to each other, and they resume what they were saying, with Will joining in this time. Mom seems left out, which is unusual - she is normally hospitable to her guests, but now her lips are slightly pursed, her dull green eyes fixed on Will's mother as she moves on from the topic of oxygen and chatters on about global warming. I wonder if something unpleasant happened between them while we were gone.

Christina, Al and I look at each other as Will talks animatedly about car emissions and pollution. We already knew he was clever, but as he uses terms we've never even heard of, we didn't realise just how intelligent he really is. I guess he hides that side when he's with us.

"Well, we should go now," Mrs Lloyd-Hughes says, glancing at the clock. "Come on, Will. Say goodbye to your friend."

"See you in school, Tris," Will grins, heading for the door with Christina and Al. I smile, and pat my hair. I don't care for the look Mrs Lloyd-Hughes gives me, like I am an untamed animal.

Mom, Dad and my brother wave at them as she unlocks her car. I can't hear exactly what she says to her son, but it's something to do with why he isn't friends with Caleb instead of us. Rude of her, considering that Will's friends are right next to them. I smile as Christina snaps at her, and they get into the car. Trust Christina to speak her mind. I grin harder as they drive off, and wave at them again until they're out of sight.

"Phew," Mom breathes, shutting the door. "I'm glad she's gone, anyway."

"Stuck up woman," Dad mutters, walking into the kitchen.

"I thought she was okay," Caleb murmurs.

Dad whirls around, his face red with anger.

"Well son, you won't be seeing her again any time soon, so you'd better not get your hopes up."

He storms off, his heavy footsteps pounding against the floor.

"What happened?" I ask Mom.

The corners of her mouth turn downwards. "She insulted the house to our face. She said it needed a clean, she even rubbed her finger along our table to prove it. She was very rude in other ways too. If Caleb hadn't come down, I don't know what we would have done with her."

My face burns with fury. Our house is spotless. There isn't a day when we don't sweep the floor or remove the dust from the tops of our furniture or wash the dishes. All members of our family work hard around the house, especially Mom and Dad, and this is how we get treated?

Then another thought strikes me.

"Mom," I say apprehensively. "What did you think of Will? Can I... can I still talk to him?"

She smiles. "Of course. He seems like a nice boy, from the few times we've met him. Very intelligent too, like his mother."

"And friendly, unlike his mother."

"Beatrice!" Mom's expression is stern, but there is a twinkle in her eye.

"It's true. I heard what she said to Will outside the car."

Her smile returns. "There are many types of people in this world, Beatrice. I suppose we just had bad luck with who we met today. I think we deserve a break after that. How about we watch a movie and finish off all that leftover candy from Halloween?"

I grin. My parents usually only allow junk food on special occasions. As I go to fetch the candy from the cupboard, I realise that despite my friends' imperfections, I wouldn't trade them for anything.

After all, anyone would seem nice after meeting Mrs Lloyd-Hughes, and I'm sure I didn't even witness the worst of her.

* * *

 **I kind of liked the idea of Tris not liking the idea of fanfiction, yet she's in thousands of them, including this one...  
Please tell me what you thought!**


	15. Jealous Lies

**Charms22:** **Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **The swings weren't like the zip-line, though I was actually thinking of putting a zip-line in the playground! I didn't put it in because it didn't flow well with the rest of the scene. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thanks to Stripesandstarlights and bernadetteburns for following, and TheProfoundNight for following and favouriting!**

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"Tris? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Tobias watches me expectantly as Amar waves us out of the P.E. hall, and I nod. I am no longer mad at Tobias - it now seems petty to stay angry over a comment for so long. Especially when he has that half-smile on his face, an expression I've grown to enjoy for its rarity.

His smile widens slightly, and he also nods. "I'll meet you outside by the entrance."

He turns around and enters the boys' changing room, and I do the same, exchanging my running clothes for a grey sweater and a pair of jeans. I don't bother getting dressed in the toilet cubicles anymore - Molly kept mocking me about it, and besides, I care less about the other girls looking at me. I've learned that they are often too focused on themselves than on each other, anyway.

I go outside and meet Tobias by the entrance, my nose running. I sniffle, and am suddenly aware that with my red nose, I look less like a desirable, petite blonde and more like Rudolph. I should have accepted Al's offer when he wanted to give me his jacket two days ago, as we walked around my town.

I blow my nose, and stuff the tissue in my pocket. Tobias bobs his head when I am next to him, and begins to walk, prompting me to follow him. His steps are wide, but mine are brisk, so there is no struggle to keep up with him. We are quiet for a bit, as we stroll around the school building. Unable to stand the silence any longer, I clear my throat.

"Um. Tobias? I - I'm sorry about the other day. You know. When I said you were too old to be worrying about me."

"Really?" he says after a pause. His eyebrows shoot up, and a hint of amusement is evident in his dark blue eyes. "According to one of your friends, you hate me so much that you don't want to speak to me for the rest of your life."

"What?"

"I thought it didn't sound like something you'd say," he says, smirking a little, "but I wanted to ask you just in case." His smirk gets bigger. "Even if there was a small chance you didn't want to talk after all."

"Tobias, this isn't funny. What are you talking about?"

"You've no idea what I'm saying."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He stops, and leans against a wall. "Somebody came up to me this morning and told me exactly what I said there, that you hated me and didn't want to talk to me - you get the picture." His expression turns more serious, and his tone is bitter. "For someone who claimed to be just your friend, he seemed very protective."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "Was it a joke?"

"Didn't look like it. He was pretty angry with me. He said that you'd told him how badly I'd treated you, and he also told me to stop taking advantage of you, that you were too young for my "games"." He makes inverted commas with his fingers, and sighs. "Look, I'm sure you've figured out already that I'm not nice to most people - it doesn't mean I hate them. And I've certainly never played any games with you. That's when I knew something was off."

It's a 'he'. So it's either Will, or Al, though I'm not sure why they would do that. Could it be Uriah? I doubt it. Maybe it was someone I don't know - but again, why?

"I never told anyone that you treated me badly - you didn't, anyway. Not really," I say to him. "Who was it?" I ask, unsure if I want to hear the answer.

"I don't know his name. He was a big guy, very strong." He raises a hand well above his head, trying to tell me how tall he was.

 _Al_. The only person I know who is that height.

"Him?" I utter.

"So you know who I'm talking about."

"Yes, I do..." I say softly.

Tobias seems at a loss for words as I ponder on the news. Al? Why would Al do that? Was it some fiercely overprotective desire to keep me away from an older guy? It could be. But my instincts point at a nastier goal - and I tend to trust my gut feeling.

Al was just jealous. Nothing more to it. He fabricated lies to separate me and Tobias. He twisted my words and used them against me to make sure nothing went on between me and the boy walking next to me - like that would make me grow closer to Al. I feel sick; his restlessness today at small break, his inability to meet my eyes when I greeted him - it all makes sense.

"I just thought I'd let you know, Tris," Tobias remarks after a while. "I wanted to see if he was really lying. I knew all along, but I wanted to be sure."

"No, Tobias. You were right in telling me," I reassure him. "There's two possible reasons as to why he did it. I'll talk to him later on."

He makes a non-committal sound, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. I can't believe Al would do that. Whatever his motive was, neither sits well with me. Either he considers me too juvenile to go out with a sixteen year old, or he wanted to sabotage my relationship with Tobias. Either he's overprotective, or simply a bad friend.

I am furious at him. I've been told that I am mature for my age - I can go out with whoever I like. And if it's the second option, then Al just needs to grow up. Rejection happens to a lot of people. Of course he's going to feel hurt, but that's no reason to tell potentially damaging untruths.

Tobias is staring at me, so I begin to speak again.

"It's just a bit of a shock," I chuckle mirthlessly. "I'm... confused about it all. I'm trying to think why." I press a hand to my forehead. "You know what? I think I'll try to forget about it til I see him again."

He nods.

"You know, Tris," he says, smiling a little. "I think we should go inside now and eat. I heard chocolate cake's for dessert today."

I forgot about dinner - must be due to Tobias's presence. I smile. That _is_ a good way to take my mind off Al.

"You must really like chocolate cake," I comment, laughing a little.

"Yes, I do."

"Oh. Is that why you were eating it at the cafe the other day?"

I resist the urge to slap a hand over my mouth. Now it sounds like I was stalking him.

"You've been watching closely," he says. I try to make eye contact, but it's hard when I have just embarrassed myself and his mouth twitches with humour.

"Not really. I just happened to see you eating it."

"Really," he smiles.

I don't bother to summon up an answer; my cheeks are the same colour as my nose, a dead giveaway. I can tell he doesn't believe me. I don't blame him.

We enter the canteen, and after we take our trays with our meals, Tobias takes a seat in the corner of the room. I don't know whether I should stay with him or not, so I remain standing, pretending to look around for my friends.

"Aren't you going to sit, Tris?" he asks. So he wants me to stay. I sit down in front of him, hoping I don't dig more holes for myself.

"I didn't think Zeke and Shauna wanted me with them today," he says, cutting a roast potato in half. "If we weren't such good friends, I'd feel very left out sometimes."

"It's kind of like that with me. I have two friends who are dating, too."

"Oh. How do you know Shauna and Zeke are dating?"

"Uriah - my friend - told me. And I have eyes."

"Uriah."

"Yeah. He's on my bus."

"So am I. Friends with him, I mean. I know Zeke better, but I met Uriah through him. They're brothers - do you know that?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He takes a moment to munch on his lettuce. "So how are you getting on? Or am I too old to care about that?"

His smirk is mischievous, and I meet his gaze. "I'm getting on fine."

"Is anyone giving you a bad time?"

Peter's malicious smirk comes to mind, along with Drew's and Molly's. "There's a few. But I'm dealing with it myself."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs, and raises his eyebrows, watching me intently. "Sometimes, you can't deal with life on your own. Sometimes you need help." He sips at his cup of water before continuing. "I told you this already, but I mean it when I say you can come to me any time you need it."

"I don't need your help." It sounds rude, so I clear my throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

"I understand," he says. "And as for needing help - you might, someday. There's nothing wrong with asking, Tris. It's not a sign you're weak. If anything, I think it makes you stronger. You're strong enough to swallow your pride and just ask."

"How very wise of you," I retort, but deep down I agree with him, albeit reluctantly. It would take a lot of strength to admit your weaknesses. But another part of me disagrees with Tobias. If you can do it yourself, then it's just pointless to ask.

I wonder if Tobias ever had to use that piece of advice in his own life. His words make me even more curious about him, make me want to find out more about him. But now is not the time for questions about his life story, so I remain silent and eat the rest of my salad.

Tobias finishes his dinner, and moves onto his cake. His eyes light up with childlike joy, and I bite my lip to keep in a laugh. For all his tough ways, he is still a kid to some extent.

"This was my favourite food when I was younger," he explains, his dessert gone is seconds. This wasn't what I had in mind when I was thinking about his story, but I listen anyway - I like talking to him, about anything.

"Mom used to take me to the bakery every Saturday to buy some. It was our special treat."

He stops, his eyes dreamy with nostalgia.

"Now I go myself," he carries on. "But it's still my favourite food." He coughs into his fist - when he looks back up at me, the boyish look is gone, and he is back to the Tobias I know best - closed-off, unwilling to reveal any information about himself.

The bell rings at that moment, an unwelcome sound. We stare at each other for a second - the air is charged with electricity, and I wonder what it would be like to lean in a few more inches and brush my lips against his. A second turns into a minute, and it is increasingly difficult to draw my eyes away from him.

"We should go now," I remind him once I finally come to my senses.

"Yeah. We should." He nods - did a regretful look pass over his face? - and picks up his tray. We place our trays on the trolley, and Tobias steps away from me. At first it seems like he won't even say goodbye, and I start to think that I imagined what took place between us.

But then, just as he is about to leave the canteen, he turns his head and smiles at me - not a half-smile like I'm used to, but a genuine one that makes me feel warm inside.

I don't think about Al once for the rest of the day. Instead, my mind is filled with Tobias.

* * *

 **I was going to also write about Tris talking to Al in this chapter, but I didn't want to ruin the Fourtris moment. Also, yes, Tobias has a past which will be revealed later on, but the situation is a little different from the books. And finally, I don't know if Tobias is a little _too_ friendly (maybe I'm just being paranoid here), but since he doesn't have as many reasons to hide his feelings for Tris, it would make sense if he's friendlier than in the books. Hopefully he's not out of character. Please review!**


	16. Unforgiven

**Charms22:** **I'm so happy you liked the Fourtris moment! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Wrenlovesreading:** **Yeah, I feel the same as you when it comes to Al. Even in the books, while I don't approve of his actions and I will never condone what he did, I still felt really bad for him. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Olivia:** **Here's the latest update and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Brokenwings35:** **Glad you liked it and thanks!**

 **Thanks to Laura the Lucian for favouriting!**

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All of my joy from the previous day is gone when I wake up this morning. All I can think about is how I'll give Al a piece of my mind when I see him today.

He says hi to me before Max comes in for homeroom. Now is not the time for a fight, so I greet him back through gritted teeth. It's all I can do not to punch him right now.

I spend the next two classes plotting what I will say. If I could channel that creativity into my short story in English class, I would probably come out with an A+.

After the bell rings and I get all necessary books from my locker, I head for the canteen where I know _he_ will be. I sit down, saying hello to Will and Christina, but deliberately ignoring Al. When he gives me a wounded look, I finally explode.

"Why did you do it?" I say hoarsely, barely able to speak from anger. "Why?"

"Tris, I-"

"Why did you do it?"

"W-what do you mean...?"

But he knows. He knows what I mean. I can see it on his face already even though I haven't said what this is all about.

I stand up, and I can't help it - I slap his face, hard. Beside me, Christina gasps, and Will places a hand on my arm. I shake it off roughly. I will get this out of my system as soon as I can, and nobody is going to stop me.

"Why did you tell Tobias that I hate him?" I ask, still standing. Normally Al is like a giant, but now, with his wide, scared eyes and pale face, he has never seemed so small.

"You don't understand, Tris, I-"

"I understand perfectly! I am not a child, Al!" I say, frustrated, drawing people's attention onto me. I lower my voice, and continue. "Tell me, why did you do it? Was it because you wanted to _protect_ me? Was it because you were jealous? What was the reason behind all of that?"

"I don't know, I..." He sighs. "I'm not going to lie, I _was_ jealous, and angry, but I'm so sorry, Tris, it won't happen again... Tris, I..."

His tone pleads with me to forgive him, but his posture is slumped, defeated, like he knows what I might say. His head is bent downwards; when he raises his eyes, they are glossy with unshed tears. I should feel compassion for this boy who looks so forlorn, who sounds so apologetic and sincere and is almost crying with remorse.

 _He is pathetic._

"What's going on here?" Christina asks quietly.

Neither of us answer as my fury ebbs away, being replaced by ice-cold ruthlessness.

"I'm disgusted with you, Al," I say in a voice so emotionless I barely recognise it as my own.

"Tris, please, I didn't mean it..."

I shake my head. "You did. You didn't feel sorry while you were doing it, did you?"

"Tris." Will's voice cuts across mine.

Suddenly I can't take it anymore, can't take Christina's confusion, Will's attempts at keeping the peace, Al's futile begging. I grab my bag and storm off, aware that Christina and Will are following me.

"Tris. Tris!"

I won't stop. I don't have the patience to deal with whatever they have to say.

"Tris, come back. Tris!"

I sigh and whirl around, stopping. "What?" I snap.

"I think we need to talk," says Will. "What happened? What did Al do to you?"

"I need air." I continue walking until I'm outside.

"Tris!" Christina says. "Tell us what happened!"

"Al told lies to Tobias," I say, not looking at either of them. "He said that I hated him and that I didn't want to speak to him again. He said I was too young for his so-called games. I can tell you that Tobias never played any games with me."

"Why would Al do that?" Christina asks.

"Jealous," I say grimly. "If you were listening to what we said."

"Tris," Will says. "You have to understand that we are all very confused. We have no idea what's going on. Why would Al be jealous? Does he like you?"

"He asked me out before - not that it excuses anything."

"What? When? Why didn't you tell us?" Christina says, bombarding me with questions I am not willing to answer.

"That doesn't matter, Christina," I say. "The point is that it's not even the lies themselves that are bothering me. It's the fact that if Tobias was more gullible, or didn't know me that well, it might have ruined anything that could have happened between him and I. Luckily we actually got closer after it, so Al's efforts were a waste of time."

"Aww Tris, you have to tell me about that!"

"Maybe later." I smile for a split second.

"Hmm. So it's not what he did, it was his intentions. That makes sense."

"Well done, Einstein," Christina smirks at Will. "But I get you now, Tris. It's not what happened, it's what could have happened."

"And the fact that he didn't want me to be happy, even though he calls himself my friend," I explain. "I get why he'd be upset about me liking Tobias, but I didn't think he'd stoop so low. And I don't think I'll be able to see him in the same way again."

"I hate people who lie," Christina says quietly. "Guess I won't be talking to him again anytime soon."

Will nods, his face serious. "I feel bad for him, but I agree with Tris. Spending time with him - it would feel too odd."

We are silent for a while after that. Things are going to be different from now on. It will be strange only having three people in our friend group, when we are so used to Al's lumbering figure walking with us around the school or sitting in the canteen, with his shy, tentative smiles and his kind words when we needed them.

But it would be even more strange to talk to the person who couldn't control his jealousy and tried to get Tobias out of my life. And I don't think I can fully forgive him for that.

"Anyway," says Christina after a while, "tell me what happened with Tobias!"

I smile. Despite everything that's happened, I still like to talk about Tobias.

* * *

 **I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was writing a fanfic (I get these dreams sometimes) about Al liking Tris, and her starting to fall for him. As a result, writing this chapter felt slightly odd. As always, please review!**


	17. Bubble Gum

**Wrenlovesreading:** **There are some Altris fanfics out there; while I don't ship them, some of the stories are still good. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Charms22:** **Thank you for your review! I'm glad you liked it!**

 **Thanks to i. heart. fourtris. div and msdhunay929** **for favouriting, CloverBudgie for following and mandy16at for following and favouriting!**

* * *

We avoid Al for the rest of the week, and even though I know I should, I don't feel any guilt. Not even when I see him near tears in homeroom, or when I notice him walking around on his own, head down. I'm no longer angry at him, but that doesn't mean I don't despise him for what he did.

I am glad today is Friday, after such an eventful week. I can't wait to get home and relax for a bit, and forget about Al and the stress of school and exams.

I head for my next class, which is math. I have a slight headache, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to handle the sums and problems in front of me - I don't work well when I feel sick. A person's hand touches off my back as I walk, and I try not to react - whoever they are, they are invading my personal space.

I hear a popping sound, and some snorts from behind me. I'm not sure why I turn around - I now know that it's Molly without having to look - but I do. Her mouth is twisted into a mocking grin, showing a set of crooked, yellow tinged teeth.

She raises an eyebrow at me, and smirks. "Look at your hair," she says.

"What?"

"Just look."

"Molly, what did you do to my hair."

She rolls her eyes. "Figure it out."

When she is out of sight I turn around, but I can't see anything wrong. I flip my hair forward, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. I am confused; she must have been joking. I sigh.

I meet Christina outside our classroom - we had lost each other in the corridor - and just in case, I ask her to check the back of my hair.

"Oh my gosh, Tris."

"What? What's wrong?"

I look at Christina. A hand is placed on her mouth, and she gives me a worried look.

"Christina, I need you to tell me what's going on."

"Tris." She presses her lips together, and I can tell that she doesn't know what to say.

"Tell me. Please. It's fine."

"Tris," she repeats. "You have pink gum all over your hair."

My eyes widen in panic. As far as I know, gum doesn't come off. I am not the type of girl who spends hours styling my hair, but I don't want to have an unflattering haircut, either.

"How did that happen?" she asks.

"Molly," I growl.

"That sucks," Christina says sympathetically, "but of course it's just the type of thing she would do."

"What should I do now?"

"I don't know, Tris, I really don't. I'm sorry."

"Excuse me, girls!" Miss James, our math teacher, gives us a stern look. "When are you planning on joining us?"

"Take my scarf," Christina mutters as we enter, meekly avoiding the teacher's eyes. "It'll hide the gum."

I nod with gratitude, and take my seat. It's a good thing Molly doesn't sit near me, or I mightn't have been able to restrain myself from hitting her.

At lunch break, I go into the restroom, and peer into the mirror. I turn around - pale pink bubble gum covers the higher part of my ponytail. I attempt to scrape it off, trying not to think of Molly's spit, but for some reason, I only end up sticking it further into my hair.

There is no one in the restroom, so I allow myself a frustrated growl. What am I going to tell my parents? They'll think I'm being bullied and tell the principal. At least Christina's scarf will conceal it; I hope they don't notice that it is not mine.

I exhale a sigh and head for the canteen, my steps slow, matching how fed up I feel. I thought Peter, Drew and Molly had grown tired of me, but it looks like I was wrong about that. But that's nothing new. I am making a lot of errors lately when it comes to other people.

Will and Christina are sitting next to each other when I get there. I notice that Al isn't there. Good. I have enough to deal with without having to look at his pathetic face. To his credit, at least he is smart enough to know when pleading is pointless.

I don't remember much else of my school day after that; it goes by in a blur. I'm too annoyed, and my headache pounds harder when I think about the gum.

I rush past Mom when I reach home and run up the stairs, ignoring her confused expression. I stare at my hair in the mirror, and wonder if there is a way to remove the gum. But is it really worth the effort?

Why don't I just cut it?

It's a spontaneous thought, something I haven't considered before, but the more I think about it, the more I want to do it. What's the harm? It'll be less trouble to wash, less time to spend on tying it up. There probably is a way to get out the bubble gum, but I've had this hair for a long time, too long.

I am battling internally with myself. Beatrice wants to play it safe, keep it as it is. She is afraid of change, scared of getting into trouble. But Tris wants to cut it all off, just to see what it will look like shorter. It's a risk. I could end up worse off than before, grounded for the first time and with a horrendous hairstyle to boot.

I used to be Beatrice, and sometimes, I still am. But right now, I am Tris, and Tris can't resist that impulse. I grab a pair of scissors from my stationery cup, and cut right across my ponytail. Dull blonde strands bound together with pink gum fall to the floor. I remove my hair out of its hair tie, and shake my head. I let out a nervous laugh, my face burning with the thrill of doing something forbidden. My hair is now chin length, and it makes me look older, less girly, more like... Tris. Someone who can be taken more seriously despite my small size.

I trim my hair so it's even, and take another long look at my reflection. It must be just me, but my hair seems a darker shade of blonde, almost brown, but at the same time less dull, shinier. I pat it into place, and decide to clean up after dinner. I brush some hair off my clothes, and go downstairs to help set the table.

When I enter the kitchen, my family gape at me.

"Beatrice!" Mom exclaims. "What have you done to your hair?"

"I cut it." It sounds blunt, but I don't know how else to say it.

"Why?" Caleb stammers.

I am not about to start talking about Peter and Molly, so I only tell some of the truth. "Someone blew gum on it when we were walking to class. She apologised afterwards," I almost laugh at the idea of Molly begging for forgiveness, "but it was too late, so I cut it."

"But Beatrice," Mom says. "You should have told us beforehand. I would have cut it for you. We could have even tried to get the gum out."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's done," she sighs, staring at me. "You didn't do too bad a job. Besides," she adds with a twinkle in her eye, "I think it's time we gave you more freedom with how you express yourself. You, and Caleb."

I smile a little. Dad is seemingly speechless; he hasn't said a word since I came down.

My parents and brother keep giving me looks as we eat our dinner. I can only imagine how my friends will react on Monday.

* * *

 **Not my favourite chapter - I suppose it's more of a filler chapter than an important chapter - but hopefully you still liked it. Please let me know what you thought!**


	18. Bad Hair Day

**Charms22: I like Tris better with long hair too - though I think short hair suits her personality more. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Guest: Glad you liked the last chapter - I'm always worried that people will be annoyed at "only" getting a filler chapter after the wait. I'm happy to see that I'm right in including them. Thanks for your review!**

 **Thanks to niccaldwell12 for following!**

* * *

"Tris! Your hair!"

Christina's eyes are wide with shock as she adjusts to my new hairstyle. Will says nothing, just stares at me like I've grown two heads.

"What? Don't you like it?"

"It's not bad," Christina says slowly. "It's just... it's going to take me a while to get used to it. But it looks nice, I guess. Couldn't you get the gum out?"

I shrug. "I didn't try. I was kind of sick of my old hairstyle anyway. It took too long to wash and dry. Now, it's easier to manage. And I don't know why you're so upset - it's not that different from yours."

"Yeah, but Tris, I'm not saying it's bad, but it was so nice and long!"

Will rolls his eyes, his initial shock gone. "Leave her alone, Christina. If she wants to cut her hair, it's her business. Besides, she looks much the same as before as far as I'm concerned."

"That's because you don't care about these things."

"Yeah. A nice hairstyle matters so much in life. That's what gets you into university. That's what gets you a good job."

Christina snorts. "What's wrong with trying to look nice?"

"It's pointless."

"Pointless for you, by the looks of it. I mean, your hair is longer than mine. And now, it's longer than Tris's too. It looks like you haven't cut it in a year."

"Wow, I'm offended," Will says dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. Then he smirks. "Really, Christina, if my hair bothers you that much there's hundreds of other guys you could have picked instead of me."

"No, because they're all bigger idiots than you are. You're the best of a bad bunch."

"I didn't know that idiots got As in all of their tests."

"You're very modest, aren't you? And you are an idiot. All guys are." Her smirk widens as she peers at me closely. "Though I think Tris might disagree with me on that one, thanks to a certain older guy."

I groan. "Not this again, Christina."

"I wonder what Tobias is going to think of your new haircut!"

"I doubt he'll care as much as you do," I say dryly.

"Right," she says. "Tobias loves you no matter what you look like. Is that what you're getting at?"

"He's not in love with me."

"But he likes you!"

"Please shut up, Christina."

"Ooh, look who's getting defensive!"

I groan again, and decide not to say any more. I like Christina, but sometimes I wonder how Will puts up with her tactlessness. The bell rings, and for a few hours, I think she might forget about Tobias by the time we attend Running Club later on.

But I am wrong.

Christina nudges my arm when we are in the P.E. hall.

"Looks like Tobias loves your new look," she grins, speaking in a sing-song voice. "He can't keep his eyes off you!"

I scowl. "Can you say that a little louder? I didn't hear you that time."

"Even Will saw that!" she continues, her voice only slightly lower. "You totally saw that, didn't you?"

Will puts his hands out, taking a step back. "I'm not getting involved."

"Come on, Will! Aren't you glad our little girl is growing up?"

I turn away, annoyed. Before Christina has a chance to speak again, Amar blows his whistle, alerting us that it is time to warm up our muscles before running. I glance at Tobias; he turns his head sharply the moment my eyes fall on him. I smile a little. A few weeks ago I might have doubted his reaction, but after we had dinner together in the canteen last week I felt a connection, like we could be in a relationship if we tried.

We start running around the hall after warming up, and Tobias stays behind with me.

"Tris," he says with a small smile. I return his greeting with a quick nod, my concentration on improving my stamina, only slightly broken by Tobias's presence.

"Your hair looks different," he remarks.

"Yeah," I reply. I won't go into the details - I don't want him to feel as if he has to defend me from bullies.

"It's nice," he blurts out. I look at him. I'm surprised - and a bit pleased - to see that a faint blush stains his cheeks, as he carefully avoids my gaze. I am acutely aware of how close Christina and Will are to me. Normally they are well ahead, but now, they are only half a metre in front of us.

Tobias doesn't talk to me after that; in fact, he seems set on avoiding me in the least obvious way possible, but enough for me to get the message. He is a little ahead now, further away from me, and I struggle to see what triggered his aloof behaviour this time. All he did was accidentally pay a compliment.

Sometimes, I have no idea what to make of Tobias. He can go from being cold to concerned to friendly to downright unapproachable in the space of seconds. For all the times we act like friends or more, there are also the moments like now when I feel hopelessly detached from him, like I'll never discover who he really is.

"I'm joining my friends," he says quietly, still facing forward.

I stare at him. A foreign emotion takes over my body, one that I can't describe and that I've never experienced before. A bit like anger, mixed with sudden bravery, or a form of adrenaline.

"No."

Apparently, this feeling is taking over my mouth, too.

"No?" Tobias echoes. He is watching me intently, his gaze cold, looking like he did the day I first met him. But just like that time, I am not afraid of him. I will challenge him if I have to.

"What do you mean, no?" he asks in a sceptical tone.

I stop, and so does he.

"I think it's time we figured out... where we are with each other."

He raises his eyebrows. "I'm listening."

The shrill sound of the whistle tells us that we can get changed, but I ignore it. I look right into Tobias's eyes - I will sound clingy if I'm not careful.

"Tobias," I say, trying to keep the tremor from my voice, "I don't - I don't understand. Sometimes you act like you don't want to be near me. Then you'll act like we're best friends." I pause briefly. "I don't get it."

He crosses his arms, a flash of panic crossing his face, before returning to its default expression. "And your point is?"

"My point is that I don't know what you want from me." I bite the inside of my cheek - arguing with Tobias is a risk. "Are we friends, or not? Because I don't know."

He turns away. "You're smart," he says, deflecting the question. "Do you really need me to tell you whether we're friends or not?"

"You're not answering my question."

He scowls. "Why? Do I have to?"

I feel like growling in frustration. Why can't he just give me a yes or no answer?

"What is wrong with you, Tobias?" I ask, my voice rising in pitch. "Why can't you open up?"

His jaw drops slightly, but his scowl remains.

"I just don't get it, Tobias. It's like talking to two different people!" I feel angrier when he doesn't respond. "Who knows which Tobias we'll meet today! Will it be the Tobias who helps me and eats and chats with me, or will it be his intimidating alter ego?"

"Don't talk about me that way."

"Let me finish." He looks more annoyed than before, his hands balled into fists, but I can't stop. "What do you want from me, Tobias?"

He pauses and looks away. "I don't want anything from you, Tris." His voice is tight, and his eyebrows are pulled in.

"Fine." I cross my arms. "Don't tell me. Forget about all the times you acted like a friend to me." I stop, not wanting to say the next words, but knowing I have to. I can't go on like this, wondering if Tobias sees me as a friend - or a love interest - or if he hates me. I can't.

"I don't know how you feel about me, Tobias. I don't know if you hate me. I don't know _who you are_." I sigh. "If you can't answer that, then you can't keep trying to talk to me. Things don't work that way."

"You know you ask too many questions, Tris?" I flinch, and he lowers his tone. "Maybe if you could keep your mouth shut you and I would do just fine."

"So that's how it is, is it?" I sneer. "Fine. Next time you want to talk to me, I'll remember to keep my mouth shut and walk away, just like you wanted. Is that okay with you, Tobias? Does that make you feel better?"

Tobias furrows his eyebrows, and presses his lips together. Just then, I spot Amar approaching us, tapping his digital watch.

"Time's up," he reminds us, looking concerned. "I don't know what's going on here, but you'll have to continue your conversation somewhere else."

I glare at Tobias one last time, resisting the urge to slap him, and storm off into the changing rooms. For some odd reason, I feel a sense of great loss. Then I know why. None of my questions were answered. All I did was wreck what little we had.

But there is nothing else I can do if he refuses to open up, and I still think I am in the right.

* * *

 **All I can say is don't panic - I have a lot of plans for Tris and Tobias. Obviously, Tris doesn't know the exact reason why Tobias acts like that. This probably wasn't the nicest chapter, but hopefully you still liked it and please review!**


	19. Presents

**Hi, sorry about the delay!** **Thanks to XxlaurynxX, DenaraLaKant, ZO5, KatTheCorgi, TrinaFourTris892, Nameless Human, Not So Cliche, Swemee and trouerbach23 for following and favouriting!  
Also many thanks to Charms22, Wrenlovesreading, Lightworm for Life, Riddle's girl and Not So Cliche for reviewing! Your opinions mean a lot to me and always make me so happy. Enjoy the latest chapter!  
Oh, and this chapter happens to be about Christmas. I promise it was a coincidence.**

* * *

I push all thoughts of Tobias out of my mind as I busy myself with wrapping Christmas presents. The past four weeks have been difficult: facing him on Mondays was awkward and painful, with me trying my hardest not to look at him. When I do peek at him, he is staring at me; but it is with stony eyes, and he glances away quickly.

There has been tension between us before, but this time, I'm not sure if we can fix it. I said too much, more than I should have; yet I don't believe I was wrong to tell him my personal perspective.

I could have been kinder.

But it's too late now. I don't think he will want to speak to me anytime soon, and I just have to deal with that. I have done fine without a love life in middle school and I will continue that way in high school if I have to.

I also finished my end of semester exams last week. It was stressful, and I am not too confident that a lot of my answers are correct. I hope all of the sleepless nights I persevered through for them was worth it.

I cut out a sheet of stripy red and gold wrapping paper, lay it out on my bed and place Christina's gift in the centre, a box containing five bottles of nail polish. I fold the paper around the box, and secure it with tape. I might give it to her at Mel's party at her mansion, which will take place on the first day of our winter break.

It took a lot for Christina to convince me to go. I am not the kind of girl who follows the crowd, so the fact that the entire school is going didn't persuade me. It was only after reminding me that Caleb would be there that I agreed to go. Nothing can go wrong if my brother is there, at least I hope so.

I stick an envelope onto the present, with a glittery card inside. I move on to Will's present, a brand new book about this year's world records. Hopefully, he doesn't have it already.

Next comes Caleb's gift. Oddly it was harder to decide what I'd get for the brother I've known all my life than the friends I've hung around with for one semester, but the struggle is the same every year. Eventually I bought him the same book as the one I got for Will. It's still more creative than the grey or blue shirts I've given him in the past.

I got Mom a new hairdryer, as she broke hers recently and keeps putting off buying a new one, and Dad a pair of jeans to replace his old ones. The hairdryer is also a present to myself, as I have to walk around the house with dripping hair whenever I wash it, not to mention my soaking pillow the next morning. I feel guilty for my selfishness, especially at this time of the year, but it's not like it won't benefit Mom.

After much internal debating, I decide that Al shouldn't get a present from me. That would imply that I've forgiven him, and I don't think he should live with that lie. Maybe I can pardon him someday, but I am not a very forgiving person, so it might take a while. However, since I'm not that angry at him anymore, I may send him a short text on Christmas Day, wishing him a happy holiday.

Actually, he might take it as a sign of friendship. For his sake, I decide against it.

I hide all of the gifts in my wardrobe, flop myself down on my bed and shut my eyes. After such a tiring month, I really do need a rest.

But my mind keeps running, and no matter how hard I try to push it away, Tobias's figure keeps flickering in my mind, his small smiles, his willingness to stay with me when he didn't have to, the rare moments when he looked happy.

* * *

 **Sorry it's so short, it'll be longer next time. Please review!**

 **Also I'll no longer answer reviews personally as it takes up a lot of space at the start of every chapter, not to mention that I sometimes struggle with how to respond (nothing to do with the review itself, I just don't know how to give a more creative answer than "thanks for the review"). I just want to say that I really appreciate the feedback and I will still make sure to thank all reviewers.:-)**


	20. End of Semester

**Happy New Year to everyone! Thanks to Krazzyjosy, Infinite's Ruby and libby001 for following and favouriting, and Charms22, Wrenlovesreading, Infinite's Ruby, lavender oakwood, Not So Cliche and Guest for reviewing!**

* * *

The atmosphere is very different from normal today. The people seem happier, more chatty, as they walk to their classes with unusual enthusiasm. I suppose the last day of school does that to you. Despite the fact that we'll undoubtedly get homework, the promise of two free weeks, not to mention Christmas Day, is enough to lift everyone's spirits.

When I enter my homeroom, Max is already there, early for once. On his desk, two stacks of playing cards are balanced on top of each other at a precarious angle. I notice that Al is absent when Max closes the door. It's just as well: I can't stand the mournful looks he gives me when I happen to glance his way. It makes my insides twist with guilt, as if I shouldn't be holding a grudge against him this long, but whenever I try to summon some pity for him, it feels forced. Occasionally I still see the person who was one of my first real friends, but most of the time, I see the boy who tried to get a guy I like to stop talking to me, just to get rid of his jealousy, not even thinking about how I would feel.

Though frankly, if Tobias had believed him, Al might have been doing me a favour. It would have been much easier to get over Tobias if we hadn't spoken that day at the canteen afterwards, if he hadn't smiled at me the way he did, if he hadn't complimented my hair a week later.

"So I've decided that as a treat, you're all allowed to play cards today," Max finishes. I realise that I have no idea what he said prior to that. So much for not letting boys distract me.

We stand up and take the small cardboard boxes from Max's desk, and I grab a chair and sit around one of the tables with Christina and Will. As Will shuffles the deck of cards, he suggests that we play go fish, and he deals out the cards. I don't know the rules, so Will explains them to me; our family doesn't really play cards.

Surprisingly, I win the first game. By the looks of it, Christina isn't up for a second one. She makes a triangle shape with two cards, and develops a pattern along the table. Then I realise that she is making a castle, as it starts to build up in height.

"What?" she says as Will and I stare at her. "I'm bored."

"Would you like to play something else?" Will asks her.

"Nah. Don't feel like it.

Will doesn't seem to be in a good mood and Christina is more interested in her castle than us, so I turn around and watch Lynn, Marlene and Uriah. They take turns in tossing cards onto a growing pile. Sometimes they slap their hands onto the pile, shouting "Snap!", and one person takes all the cards, laughing or smirking triumphantly.

Marlene and Lynn are oblivious, but even though Uriah's back is half turned to me, he must sense my eyes on them. He moves his head to look at me, and smiles.

"Hey, Tris!" he calls loudly, like I am not sitting mere metres away from him. I suppose Uriah's taking advantage of the situation - normally if we're noisy Max tells us to shut up, but today is an exception.

Lynn and Marlene stop playing. Uriah's eyes flick to Christina, blowing down her castle. "Want to join us?" he asks.

I look at my friends. They seem content enough without me.

"Yeah," I reply, carrying my chair next to Uriah. Marlene has a smile on her face, but Lynn scowls at me. I don't know what I did to upset her.

"We're playing snap," Uriah says once I'm seated. "Do you know how to play?"

I shake my head. All three of them stare at me in disbelief.

"We don't really play cards in my house."

"Don't tell me you think card games are evil," Lynn says, narrowing her eyes. "They're not. It's not like we're making money out of them, and so what if we were?"

I shrug. "My parents... they just never taught us. It's not that we think they're evil. We just don't play them."

Lynn raises an eyebrow. "Your parents are weird."

I glare at her.

"Drop it, Lynn. It's not a big deal." Uriah keeps his good-natured demeanour as he looks at Lynn, yet his tone indicates that he is not happy with her. Lynn shrugs her shoulders, her scowl softening. I understand why people take to Uriah so much: he is assertive, but always friendly. Even when he is scolding you, it's impossible to dislike him. I give him a subtle smile, as he shuffles the deck and hands them out.

"The rules are on the back of the box," he says, gesturing at it. "It's really easy to play. If you've any questions, just ask me."

I pick up the box and read the rules carefully.

"What happens if two of us say "snap" at the same time?" I ask.

"We had problems with that when we were kids," he smirks, "so whoever shouts "snap" _and_ puts their hand on the pile first wins the cards."

I nod, and we begin our game. At first all I seem to do is toss a card every four turns, and I don't see how this is considered entertaining. Then Marlene places a card that matches the one underneath it, and all four of us yell, smacking our hands on the pile.

"Keep the noise down!" Max scolds us, looking up from his work. "Do you want the whole school to wonder what's going on in this room?"

"Chill Max, it's the Holidays," Uriah smiles. Any other student would have gotten into trouble for disrespect, but the combination of Christmas with Uriah being a well-liked ninth grader with Max not being all that strict a teacher goes in his favour.

"Just try to be more quiet. I don't want teachers complaining that I can't control you all," Max says, returning to his work.

"Okay Max."

Marlene snickers, and Uriah winks at her. They keep eye contact for a few seconds, then turn away. I notice that Uriah looks slightly more serious, and Marlene's face is rather red. Lynn glares at them, and I wonder why, or if there is any reason. She seems to hate everyone by default.

Amidst all of the confusion we forget who won the batch of cards, so nobody receives anything and we continue on with the game. Lynn gains a huge amount of cards, and I get a few afterwards, followed by Uriah. Marlene is out when she has nothing left, and I join her when the same happens to me. Uriah and Lynn toss their cards onto the pile. It appears that Lynn will be the victor, but Uriah, in a stroke of luck, puts down his second last card, yells and hurriedly slaps the pile. As he grabs the cards, Lynn is now in danger of losing, and sure enough, she is out after a few rounds. She raises an eyebrow at Uriah, who is fist pumping the air.

"That was awesome!" he boasts. "Moral of the story, Lynn: never get overconfident when you haven't won yet!"

"It's only a game, Uriah," Lynn says, rolling her eyes, though a slight smirk is visible. It is strange how someone as grouchy as Lynn managed to get friends like Marlene and Uriah. Maybe they are good for Lynn, and she is good for them. Maybe too many extroverts in their friend group would end in chaos, and Lynn needs people like Uriah and Marlene to brighten her up, if only a little. Or it could have ended up that way by chance, like it did with me and Christina and Will and Al. If I hadn't fallen in the hallway before Tobias showed us around, they wouldn't have asked if I was okay. We might never have gotten talking. It's a weird thought.

The bell rings, and I wait for Will outside the room - we then go without Christina, as she is not in our geography class. When I turn to Will, I notice that he looks pale and worn out, and there are dark circles under his eyes that I didn't see before. I assume that the stress of the exams has gotten the better of him. Even intelligent people must sometimes get fed up with studying.

But in case I am wrong and there is a deeper issue, I decide to investigate.

"Are you okay, Will?" I ask him, keeping my tone light. "You look a bit tired."

There is a small pause, and Will looks away.

"Me?" he says, smiling weakly. "Does it really matter if I'm okay?" He gives a hollow laugh. "I wish my family would ask me that. Nobody cares about how _I_ feel these days."

"Will?" I did not expect this. His bitter attitude worries me, not to mention that I have no idea what he's talking about.

"It's true." He clenches his fists, and stares ahead. "I don't get a say in anything."

"Will? What's wrong?"

"I guess I'm the one who's being illogical," he says softly, calming down. "I guess it's not really their fault, but it's so hard to accept - "

"Will! Talk to me!" I'm very worried now. He doesn't seem at all well. He responds with a blank stare, then looks away and closes his eyes for a moment.

"It's just - leave me alone, Tris," he mutters. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now."

I try to forget about it when I reach my desk, but I can't shake the uneasy feeling. Something's very wrong with Will if he's acting this strange, Will who is so level-headed for the most part.

There is a lot of handwriting on the board. I read it before the teacher speaks, to see if it's relevant to us. Unfortunately, it is. It outlines instructions for a ninth grade geography project, which is to be done over the winter break.

"Class!" The teacher claps her hands over the chattering. When everyone's attention is on her, she points at the whiteboard. "As you know, this is the last day of the semester, and you're all excited for Christmas. However." She smiles, like she enjoys inflicting more stress, like we haven't done enough work over the past few months already.

A student yawns loudly, but she ignores him and continues. "I have decided to give you a little homework so you don't relax too much before January." She points at the board again. "I am therefore asking you to complete a project based on any country in the world for the 5th of January. For now, I am asking you to take down what's on the board into your notebooks.

"Also, you will be doing this task in pairs. I have already matched you up, so don't come to me after class asking for a swap. It won't happen."

Some people sigh as the the teacher takes a list from inside her book.

"Are you finished taking the work down?" she asks after a bit. Everyone says yes, so she rubs off the board, leaving a grey smear from the marker. "Okay. I am now going to write down all of the pairs. You can whisper to each other while you wait."

I hate it when she tells us to do that, since Will is my only friend in this class, and he sits far from me - we are not allowed to move from our seats. That is without mentioning that Edward and Myra, the two people who sit on either side of me, are going out. They constantly pass notes to each other through me; this has been my job since the start of the year. It gets annoying after a while.

"Class," the teacher calls out once more, stepping away. "Here are the pairings. Find your name and make sure you remember who you're with." With that, she returns to her desk.

I scan the board in search of my name, and find it close to the bottom. It reads _Beatrice Prior - Peter Hayes_."

 _Beatrice_ Prior. _Peter Hayes_.

Me. With _him_.

I'm with Peter - but I can't be. I reread it in case there's some sort of mistake, but there isn't any. Peter must feel the same, because he looks behind at me, disgust showing on his face.

I can't work with Peter. We hate each other. Nothing productive will come out of it. At the end of class, despite her warning earlier, Peter and I practically run to our geography teacher in sync.

"Is there a problem?" she asks, peering at us underneath her horn rimmed glasses.

"Ms Jackson, we can't work together. It's not going to happen. I -"

"He's right, Ms Jackson," I interrupt. It may be the first time Peter and I share an opinion. "I know you said we can't swap partners, but just this once -"

"But why not?" she says, quirking an eyebrow. "Peter, weren't you the one kissing her close to the start of the year?"

We gape at her. That happened ages ago. How does she still remember?

Peter seems at a loss for words, so I answer for him; it seems easier to pretend we really were kissing than to tell her that he was, in fact, shoving me against a locker - who knows what Peter would do if I let out the truth.

"We broke up since then. We had a bad break up. Please Ms Jackson, please -"

"All the more reason to put you together, then," she says. "That way, there'll be no distractions."

We widen our eyes, so we look desperate.

"Please Ms Jackson," Peter pleads. His talent for acting innocent works well in this situation. "I'll even do it on my own."

"I will too," I nod.

But she shows no signs of relenting. I don't know how she feels about me as a student, but it's clear she isn't fond of Peter. She once gave him a detention for forgetting to do his homework, so Peter handed her a complaint note from his parents the next morning asking her to stop picking on their son - I overheard him telling this to Molly and Drew. From then on the teacher never gave out to him again, but it's hard not to notice the way she narrows her eyes at him when she asks him a question, and reluctantly praises him when he's right.

Of course she's not going to give him what he wants now, and that means I'll suffer too.

"Beatrice and Peter," she says, "unless you want a detention from your next teacher for being late, I suggest you leave my classroom."

We stare at her one last time, then leave the room, defeated. I can't believe I have to work with my worst enemy. This will either end surprisingly well, or very badly, with no in between. We could get along better than we expected, or end up almost killing each other. I'm more inclined to believe the latter.

"Peter," I say, looking up at him as we walk.

He jerks his head, like he forgot I was next to him. "What?"

"Where should we do the project?"

"I'm not working with you," he says. He shakes his head, as if to confirm his statement, and his laugh is scornful.

I try not to get irritated. "You kind of have to."

"No way. I'm not spending my Christmas with you."

"Peter." I pause. "Unless you want me to go back to Ms Jackson and tell her you won't cooperate, you don't have a choice. We did our best to convince her. We have to work with each other."

I let him chew on my words for a few moments.

"Besides," I add, "I thought you liked bullying me. Shouldn't you want to work with me so you can insult me for a few hours straight? Isn't this the opportunity of a lifetime?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Haha. Very funny," he says flatly.

It may be a bad idea to rile him up before the project starts, but right now, I don't care. Peter has done worse things to me in the past.

"Now stop acting like a brat," I say, "and tell me where and when we're going to work on our project."

He doesn't answer. If he doesn't make an attempt to collaborate soon, I will no longer hold back in giving him a piece of my mind.

"Listen, Peter," I say. "I don't want to be with you any more than you want to be with me. But we've done everything we could and that didn't work, so we're together. So? My house or yours?"

He looks ahead, and scowls. "Fine. We can work at my place for all I care."

"When?"

"I don't know. Monday evening, I guess. From six to half seven. That gives us an hour and a half. We'll see how much we get done."

"Okay. So your house on Monday, from six to half seven?"

"Yeah."

"And you will be at home?" I ask suspiciously.

He sighs. "Yes Tris, I'll be at home. Talk about trust issues."

"It's only you I don't trust."

He glowers at me. "I hate you."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He doesn't say anything else, and turns a corner. I watch him for a bit, and start to wonder: if Peter is that bad, what are his parents like?

* * *

 **Hope you liked it! I hope it doesn't look like I was copying plots - there's another recently updated Divergent fanfic where Uriah and Marlene teach Tris a card game; however, I already had a lot of future chapters written out, including this one. I felt that instead of changing it I'd leave it as it was and explain this here. (I'm probably over thinking this).**

 **Seriously though, I live in fear of this happening - that I read someone else's fanfic and one of its plot points is very similar to what I was planning. That's why I don't read TOO many Divergent high school fics, in case it looks like I'm copying. Maybe I'm just paranoid, I don't know.**

 **That said, please review and let me know what you thought! I apologise for the lack of romance in this chapter, I'll make up for it next time ;-)**


	21. Experiment Gone Right

**Hi, so sorry for the delay - I didn't have much time, not to mention a lack of motivation plus some necessary research I had to do so some scenes in this chapter were accurate. I hope this doesn't disappoint since I'm writing about something I have no experience with.  
** **Thanks to Lifes-a-beech7878, Ashamgo, Cmarce2535, ZammieWriter2000 and SarahNDeSha2016 for following and favouriting, and Charms22, Guest, Wrenlovesreading, ZammieWriter2000 (lucky you, I updated less than a day after you reviewed!) and Infinite's Ruby for reviewing!**

* * *

"There. Much better."

I frown as I look in Mel's bathroom mirror, and back at Christina. I've only had this much makeup once before, and that was when she did her first makeover on me, in the privacy of her home. I don't feel at all confident about looking like this in front of everyone.

"What?" Christina looks confused, and slightly hurt.

"It's too much."

"It's not! This is your first party, Tris! You can't just wear mascara and foundation!"

"Why not?"

" _Tris_!" she whines. "The whole school is going to be here! You have to look your best! Tobias is going to be here too!"

"First of all, I don't know if he's coming," I point out. "Second, we're not talking."

Christina raises an eyebrow. "Again? Why didn't you tell me about this before?" She sighs. "You're so secretive about guys, Tris."

I sigh too. "Anyway, Christina - Tobias sees me at the Running Club every week, and I can tell you I look disgusting after we're finished."

"Which is why it's important you look good tonight!"

I roll my eyes, and take another peek. Fake eyelashes and black eyeliner make my already wide eyes seem larger, like a doll's, and sparkly pink lip gloss gives the illusion of bigger, fuller lips.

"I still think I look like one of those beauty pageant girls you see on TV," I say. "All I need is fake tan."

"You're exaggerating. And your outfit doesn't look like a beauty costume, so you're fine. But you still should have tried a bit harder," she adds.

I disagree with her previous point. My ugly Christmas jumper and baggy black jeans contrast with my face, making me seem even more cutesy. I may as well be a walking, talking Christmas themed doll. My short height doesn't help.

"I'll be watching you all night," Christina smirks, "just to make sure you don't wipe it off."

"If you want to spend the night watching me when you could be having fun, be my guest."

She laughs, and drags my very uncertain self towards Mel's kitchen. Caleb and I agreed to arrive a few hours early to her house so we could help out. Christina isn't supposed to be here at this moment, but her mother is going on a date tonight, and since I was here, Christina asked that Mrs Kravitz drive her to Mel's place before the party starts.

The kitchen floor is covered with bags of potato chips, of sweets, and of chocolate bars, and trays of muffins and cupcakes and brownies fill up the counter. I wonder how much money Mel's family have that they can afford all of this, and I also think of how this kitchen is probably five times the size of mine. Then again, if they can buy a mansion that can accommodate close to four hundred students, they can certainly afford all of that candy.

The next thing I see is my brother, his lips hungrily seeking Mel's, his hands on her hips. A loud cough from Christina causes them to pull away. Caleb's eyes are wide with embarrassment as he drops his hands to his sides and pulls away, but Mel is unfazed as she smiles at us, like we didn't just catch her in the middle of a make-out session.

"Hi again!" she says. She turns to me, and for a second I expect her to confirm my suspicions regarding my makeup.

"Do I look odd?" I ask.

"What? No! Your makeup's fantastic! Did you do it yourself?"

I shake my head and point at Christina.

"Great job," she smiles. I narrow my eyes, but she seems sincere.

"Thanks!" says Christina. "I tried to tell Tris that, but she still thinks I overdid it."

"Don't worry!" says Mel. "The light will be kind of dim; you need to have a little extra makeup if you want to stand out."

"I'll carry these trays out of the kitchen," Caleb says, taking one of them.

"Why? Getting bored of our girly talk?" Mel laughs.

"Kind of," he smirks.

"Well, that's nice. My own boyfriend thinks I'm boring," she pouts. Caleb raises his eyebrows as they stare at each other for a bit, then their faces break into smiles, and he winks at her as he leaves. I don't know whether to be glad Caleb and Mel have a good relationship, or gag at their affection. The image of my older brother kissing his girlfriend isn't one I'll forget anytime soon.

We arrange the jobs amongst ourselves. Like Caleb, Christina is in charge of taking out the trays (we decided that Mel would be too much of a distraction for my brother and little work would get done), while Mel and I have to unwrap the candy. We take the bags from the kitchen to the dining room, and place them on the table. She talks a lot about Caleb, and I listen and nod politely. Any doubts I may have had about her liking my brother are gone once I notice how her eyes light up as she rambles, a reddish hue on her face.

"You know, Tris," she says after most of the bags are on the table, "Caleb's probably the only person I can trust, apart from family."

I hope my scepticism doesn't show. Does she mean it, or is this what she says about all her boyfriends?

"I know what you're thinking," she says, startling me. "And no, I don't say this about just any guy I like. If I didn't genuinely like your brother, I would have broken up with him after two weeks - that's what I used to do with the others. You're actually really lucky, Tris. You have best friends who like you. You've lots of people to talk to if you have issues." A weary look crosses her face. "Being popular isn't all it's cracked up to be."

I stay silent. I already know what a popular girl's life is like, even though I've never lived it. Parties every few weeks. Changing boyfriends at least once a month. Hundreds of friends, and who knows how many of them are real. Having to have the right face, the right personality, the right lifestyle. It sounds exhausting.

Mel looks almost sad as we sit down, unwrap the candy and put them into bowls, but I can't help the question that slips out of my mouth.

"How did you become popular?"

She shrugs. "Got lucky in life. My parents are rich, so they can afford anything I want. Which is cool." She smiles. "I made tons of friends in middle school, mainly because I was pretty and confident." She stops. "I hope I don't sound like I love myself."

I shake my head. It's a fact. With her smooth tan, honey blonde hair and an hourglass figure, nobody can deny that she's pretty. Even Mel can't put herself down, because if she did, it would be obvious that she was only fishing for compliments.

"I'm surprised Caleb didn't tell you this before," she continues. "I'm always complaining to him about my overactive social life. He's the only one who knows how much I'd just like a break for while, at least before I told you. I just don't say it that often. People wouldn't understand. I have it all - I should be happy - and I am, it's just... it's too much sometimes." She sighs. "Sorry. I just needed to get that out. Anyway, Tris. Does Caleb ever talk to you about me?"

"Not really."

She frowns.

"But I wouldn't take offence. He's like this with every girl he likes. There was one girl we used to be friends with..." I stop for fear of making Mel jealous, but she nods, prompting me to carry on. "It was nothing serious. They never even went out. Anyway, Caleb actually spoke about her less when he started liking her. I used to tease him about her and he would change the subject. It's just the way he is."

"Hmm. So the less he talks about a girl, the more he likes her. That's unusual, but if you say so..."

She smiles, and I smile too, but before I can speak further, Caleb and Christina enter the dining room. Caleb looks annoyed; I wonder what kind of things Christina said to him.

"We're finished," he says - I feel like there's a missing "thank goodness" at the end of that statement. "What do we do now?"

"You could help us unwrap all of this."

They sit across from us, and proceed with their task.

"How do you think you all did in your winter exams?" Christina asks.

"I think I did great," Caleb says.

"I hope I did okay," I say. "You can't really say til you get the report cards."

"What about you, Mel?"

"If I pass half of my exams, I'm happy. I didn't study for them and I left a lot of blanks, so I'm not expecting anything fantastic."

"Same with me," says Christina. "I mean, what's the point in all of these tests if I'm not even going to university? What a waste of time."

"What do you want to be?" asks Mel.

"I don't know. I'd be fine with just getting a job until I can decide what I want to do with my life - even though I still have ages to think about it. Of course if I could get a job in a makeup store, that'd be nice."

"Why am I not surprised," I smirk.

Christina kicks me under the table and throws a royal blue wrapper at me.

"And I'm still annoyed about having to walk around with these fake eyelashes." I point at my eyes.

"Oh!" Caleb exclaims. "I was wondering what was up with that -" My brother gets a shove from Christina that sends him flying off the chair and onto the floor. All three of us laugh as an unimpressed Caleb picks himself up and sits down again. Clearly, he hadn't been listening earlier when we were talking about my makeup.

When everything is unwrapped and stored in bowls and stands, we move on to setting up the speakers and fairy lights, among other tasks. When the mansion is set up for the party, Mel announces that there's one more thing left. She wears a mischievous smile as she leads us into the kitchen, and when she opens the cupboard, takes something out and closes it, a bottle containing clear liquid is in her hand. At first I think it's water, and wonder why she's so excited.

"Vodka," she reveals, grinning.

I can't hold back the gasp that escapes my mouth. I glance at Caleb, who looks as horrified as I feel, but Christina smirks widely in response.

"Won't your mom and dad find out?" I say, regretting my question as soon as I ask it. I sound like a strict parent, the mom of the group.

"No!" says Mel. "My parents won't be back til late tomorrow." She must notice the doubt on my face, because she gives me a reassuring smile - a smile that says, _you poor, inexperienced girl_. "Trust me, it'll be fine. It always is. They never find out - not usually, anyway."

Before I can protest, a girl with hair like Mel's comes in, laughing.

"What's this about trusting you?"

"Nicki!" Mel rushes into her arms and gives her a bear hug. When they let go, Nicki looks down at Mel and shakes her head.

"Seriously," she says, "what have you convinced your friends to do this time?"

"I must introduce you all," Mel says, putting down the bottle. "Everyone, this is my big sister Nicki. She's graduating this year, so this will be her last high school Christmas party with us. Nicki, this is my boyfriend Caleb, his sister Tris and Tris's friend, Christina."

"Hi!" she greets. Dull blue eyes make Nicki's face plainer than it would have been if she'd had Mel's warm brown, but she seems to have the same bubbly personality as her sister. Her gaze lands on the vodka, and she tuts.

"What?" Mel laughs a little. "You're the one who paid for this stuff."

"I know. Just... don't drink too much, okay? We don't want a repeat of the last time."

"Chill out, Nicki, it'll be fine!"

Nicki sighs. "That's what you always say, and you always end up drinking twice as much as I do."

"Umm... What happened the last time?" Caleb asks.

"Someone barfed all over the couch," says Nicki. "It wasn't pretty when Mom and Dad couldn't get the grease off."

"I thought you said it'd be fine," I say to Mel.

"Relax. They won't suspect a thing. Just make sure this party doesn't get back to my parents, and that we cover the couches with some old blankets, and everything should be okay."

I don't say anything, but I can't help thinking that my parents would never leave us alone again if we drank too much and destroyed their sofa. They never drink alcohol - the devil's drink, they call it. I don't plan on consuming any vodka tonight, that's for sure.

The doorbell rings.

"There's our first guest!" Mel squeals, running for the door. A bespectacled girl smiles at Mel, and they hug.

"We'd better keep the door unlocked from now on," says Mel. "Everyone's going to arrive at any moment."

* * *

Mel and Nicki's mansion is huge, but the place still looks crowded when most of the school is crammed into it.

Caleb and Mel went off somewhere and I can't see them in this room. Christina is trying to convince Will that taking a shot of vodka is a good idea. In my head, I wish her luck. My intelligent friend would never accept alcohol at his age.

So when he peers at the glass Christina offers him, nodding hesitantly and taking it, I think my surprise is justified.

"I could do with it," he says when he notices me staring at him. He sips at it slowly, reluctantly, like he knows he shouldn't be doing this. I am reminded of his strange behaviour last Friday, and I frown.

"Tris, your face," Christina giggles uncontrollably. I suspect that she's had quite a bit of vodka herself. "Do you want some?" She hands me a small glass with unsteady hands, tipping over some of its contents.

"No way." I put out my hands and step back.

"Come on!" she coaxes loudly, shoving it in front of my face.

"No, Christina."

She mutters to herself as she puts down the glass.

"I heard that," I say. "And I'm perfectly happy, thank you very much. I don't need to let my hair down."

"But Tris, you already have your hair down," she says, apparently forgetting her previous comment.

I roll my eyes. One drunk friend is enough. I wonder how long it'll take for the alcohol to kick in for Will. I don't look forward to it.

I go to the bathroom and rest my head against the cool tiled wall. The music is loud, too loud, and my head pounds with pain. It feels better to be away from all the commotion.

I am tempted to remove my fake eyelashes as I peer into the mirror, but I don't want to imagine what a drunk Christina might do to me if she notices. I won't take my chances.

I return to the party after fifteen minutes, realising with embarrassment that a person was waiting for me to come out of the bathroom, and find my friends again. Will is clearly unfamiliar with drink, as he already looks tipsy. He has an arm slung around Christina's shoulders, his cheeks flushed, and I arrive just in time to hear him say to Christina, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? You're hot."

Christina sighs good-naturedly and slaps his arm, too hard. "That's _so unoriginal_ , Will! Even I could think of something better than that, and I'm not even smart!"

Will gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Well, I guess you could say that the drink fried my brain cells." They both laugh too much at that, and very loudly.

I sit next to them, and Will greets me brightly. He seems merrier than he was yesterday, at least. Then he looks at Christina, with an odd smile on his face.

"I'm going to miss you a lot, Christina," he mumbles, some of his happiness draining away. "And you too, Tris."

"What?" Christina looks as baffled as I feel.

He seems as if he is about to explain, but then he lights up again, and grins. "Want to think up of more jokes?"

Christina's frown also disappears as she nods, and I put Will's comment down to too much vodka. But halfway through, Christina interrupts Will and looks at me.

"Hey, Tris, how come you won't drink? Have a little fun!"

"I'm fine."

Christina tilts her head back in exasperation. "Come _on_ , Tris, just one shot! Have _fun_!"

"I am having fun."

"Ugh, _live_ a _little_!" Christina's emphasis on certain words is beginning to irritate me. Then, she grins, baring her teeth at me like a shark. "Hang on a second. I know exactly how to get you to drink."

I cross my arms.

"Tobias!" she shouts out. "Take a shot, or I'll tell the _whole party_ that you like Tobias!"

I scowl. Christina would never betray me like that if she was sober - not deliberately. I turn to Will for help, but he seems to be on his girlfriend's side. Mates before dates, unless your love interest also happens to be one of your best friends.

I have already lost this battle - there's no point in fighting, because that will only make Christina louder and bolder. Tobias is at this party, I've spotted him, so what should I do?

I take the shot. It's only one. It should be fine, I think.

The vodka burns as it descends my throat, and I cringe. I then realise that alcohol on an empty stomach is not a good idea, but it's too late to turn back - besides, I could not find the will to return to school if Tobias knew I liked him.

Christina cheers me on, and Will pats me on the back.

"You go girl!" says Christina, enveloping me in a tight hug.

"Did you know that your weight determines how your body absorbs alcohol?"

I almost dismiss Will's input until he carries on.

"That means you'll get more drunk, Tris."

"What?"

"Get it? Because you're so thin? And short?"

It hits me. I had a full shot of vodka. Without eating anything beforehand. I weigh very little. And I have no experience with alcohol.

This will not end well.

But, at least my secret is safe for now. Besides, I am a little curious to discover the effects of alcohol, even if it was virtually forced upon me.

It's only one shot.

* * *

Will was right. It doesn't take long for me to feel tipsy, though I wouldn't consider myself drunk. Suddenly another shot sounds like a good idea, but my vision wobbles as I walk towards a table and take one. A remix of my favourite Christmas song plays and I start to move my head in time to the tune, and do a little dance with Will and Christina. We are all giggling a lot, and it's hard to focus. A part of me is aware that this isn't how I usually act, but I ignore it and lose myself to the music. I feel confident, and great, so great.

Christina falls over and starts laughing; Will and I try to help her up but we're too disorientated; we are all left in hysterics. Will gets her up in the end and in the distance I spot Molly putting her arm around Peter. It looks like she's flirting with him. He scowls ahead in response, and I laugh at his discomfort, and before I know it, I'm right in front of them.

"Didn't know Molly was your new girlfriend." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I am surprised at their incoherence.

 _Loose lips sink ships_ , my father's distant voice says in my head. I don't think he'd be happy to see me in this condition. I don't think I really care about that right now either.

Peter presses his lips together. He really does hate me, but I hate him more. I want to annoy him further, though I try to tell myself that I shouldn't. I do it anyway.

"Should have known you could only get someone ugly like her," I carry on. "Nobody else would take you."

"Hey!" says Molly, but she's more drunk than I am, and I don't think my insult registers in her already pea-sized brain.

"Shut up, Tris," Peter growls.

I pause. "You know, you could be cute if you acted nicer."

Should I have said that? I feel like I'll regret this later. But it's true - if he wasn't so detestable, I'm sure he would have a decent amount of girls fawning over him. The drink must be making me admit things that I wouldn't like to think about if sober.

He straightens himself up and gives me an arrogant smirk. "You really think so? Aww, shucks, thanks Tris. I'll remember that next time when you say you hate me." His look hardens again, though he still seems amused. "Now can you get out of my way?"

"How about no? Just because you're desperate doesn't mean you get to speak to me like that!"

"I'll speak to you however I like," he shrugs, taking out his phone, tapping it a few times and holding it up. "And Tris... You're pretty wasted right now. I'd watch what you're saying if I were you."

"I'm not wasted!" I say, my voice rising in volume. I shout some expletives at him, and make a rude gesture with my hand.

Peter just smirks as he watches me. He is still holding his phone at an awkward angle.

I walk across the room, and happen to see Tobias laughing with his friends. I feel so lucky to have found him so quickly in such a crowded place, and I stand there, grinning - where are Will and Christina? I don't really care. Tobias is so gorgeous... but then I remember that we're supposed to be mad at each other, I can't recall why. I just wish we were going out - this whole situation is too frustrating. I feel the grin vanishing from my face.

Tobias turns his head to the side, and he sees me. He looks stunned for a few seconds, then smiles. "Hey, Tris!" he calls. His voice is so deep. Sexy.

I totter in his direction, the people and the floor sway til I'm dizzy. When I'm close to Tobias he looks right into my eyes, and I feel like honey, like I'm melting, and I don't know how it happens, but his face is only a few inches away from mine all of a sudden. I like it.

"Are you still mad at me, Tris?" he asks huskily, his smile disappearing. I decide that this is a good time to try my hand at flirting.

"Kind of," I say in a low tone to match Tobias's - maybe he'll think my voice is attractive, too. "You're not very nice, you know."

He looks confused for a second, then grins.

"You're not very nice either," he says. "I guess that's why I like you so much."

A series of wolf-whistles and cat-calls come out from nowhere, and a voice saying "Smooth!". I'm surprised to see people around us, Zeke and Shauna and others I don't recognise; I didn't know anyone was watching. It felt like we were alone, just me and Tobias and no one else but us.

Tobias leans in, and grazes his lips against mine. My insides are on fire, but I love this feeling, but he pulls away after a bit, and I feel so disappointed, until he picks me up bridal style and carries me away from the gawping crowd. _My hero_ , I can't help thinking.

He puts me down once we're in a different part of the room, and takes a shot of vodka; I do the same, it's my third one, I think.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" I ask.

He looks away. "I'm drunk, Tris," he says soberly - which is ironic. "Do you really want me to kiss you when we're both too drunk to think straight?"

"I'm not drunk," I tell him. "Okay, maybe a bit, but -"

Tobias puts a finger to my lips. "Did anyone tell you how good you look tonight?" he says.

I shake my head. "It's not true, anyway. I look like some kind of doll - not in a good way."

Tobias stares at me, then smirks. "You could never look like a doll. Dolls are air-headed. You're smart, you stand up for yourself. You've too much fire."

I don't fully understand what he's trying to say, but I do know he is speaking words of admiration. I turn away. "I'm not even pretty, Tobias." I sound like a clichéd character from a movie, but I've always wondered why Tobias bothers with me.

"No, you're not." He leans in. "But you're so much more interesting than all of the pretty girls I know - look more interesting, too. Pretty is _boring_."

My heart soars, even though I should latch onto the fact that he said I wasn't pretty, and yet, it's so obvious that everything he said was a compliment. We stare at each other some more, and he leans in, and plants a kiss on my cheek - it lands on my ear, but right now that doesn't matter. _Tobias kissed me. Twice._ I'm not sure if the first time counts, but he wanted to, and that's just as good as if he had done it.

"Stay safe, Tris," he says. "Too much alcohol is bad for you. I should probably follow my own advice." He finishes his speech with a hearty chuckle.

"You should know by now that you don't need to worry about me." I hug him for longer than I should, then run away, seeking out my friends' faces in the crowd - I want to tell them all about the progress I made with Tobias.

The rest of the night is a hazy blur, an exciting, hilarious blend of events that don't stick in my mind for long.

* * *

 **I was going to have Tris and Tobias kiss, but like Tobias said, I didn't want them to have their first kiss while drunk. Also, it's weird to have Peter call Tris by her name in this fanfic - he usually calls her Stiff in the books. Likewise, it's also weird to have people like Zeke call Tobias by his real name, when I'm so used to him calling Tobias Four (I tried to think of a good reason for Tobias to have that nickname in this fanfic, but I couldn't come up with anything).**

 **Hopefully this chapter is accurate since I don't drink - I did as much research as I could and if it's still not up to the right standard I'm really sorry. I also hope you don't think Tris was too out of character, since she always refuses alcohol in the books (but again, it all goes back to a stricter upbringing in the books than in this fanfic). Please review!**


	22. Experiment Gone Wrong

**Hi! Thanks to 6DIVERGENT4ever, DauntlessDivergent3112, julz941, Cookielover730 and tarzane for following and favouriting, and LanaLang6410, Wrenlovesreading, 6DIVERGENT4ever, Charms22, Not So Cliche and Guest for reviewing!**

* * *

I wake up in my own bed, my head pounding with intense pain. I feel groggy, and try to sit up. I immediately wish I hadn't. I flop back onto my pillow, and groan with agony.

It takes me a few minutes to realise what is wrong with me. I had... three glasses of vodka? - and clearly, I am hungover.

That's not something I ever thought I would say.

I had no idea I could feel this rotten.

I scavenge my brain for memories of last night, but few are clear and some are downright puzzling. Me swearing at Peter - but I never curse. Will making a weird comment about missing me and Christina. The floor swaying. Tobias's lips on mine. Tobias telling me I'm interesting. Tobias -

My eyes grow wide. Either the drink addled my perception of events, or there's a big possibility I did something very embarrassing in front of Tobias.

My cheeks flame. I try to resurrect that image again - of Tobias... kissing me, I think. But the ambiguity is still there. I can't make out what led to that kiss - if it even happened.

I pull the covers over my face. What if we did kiss, or worse, _I_ initiated it?

Either way, even though it is blurry, I conclude that the image is still too detailed for it not to have taken place - and I know I will never be able to face Tobias again. I will have to drop out of the Running Club - I'll even risk getting caught by Amar, who won't take my departure lightly. It's a pity, because both my fitness levels and stamina are improving, but I can't. I can't.

I hear a slow turning of the door knob, and my mother appears, her brow furrowed.

"Beatrice," she says quietly, sitting on the corner of my bed. "You're awake."

"Shouldn't you be at work today, Mom?" I croak. I need a glass of water, so badly, but it's not a good time to ask.

"I took a day off," she explains. "I couldn't leave you and Caleb alone. I'm sure you've worked out why you're not well, by now."

"What's wrong with Caleb?" I say, clearing my throat. It doesn't help ease the thirst.

"He's in the same state as you." She raises an eyebrow. "Worse, in fact."

Caleb, hungover? Caleb, my big brother, the person I looked up to as a child, hungover?

"How did we get here, Mom?"

"We picked you up. Caleb rang us - we had no idea what he was trying to say, but it was clear he was drunk, so your father drove to Mel's house and collected you." She shakes her head, but she doesn't look angry - just disappointed. "You'd better apologise to your father. He's furious - with both of you."

I close my eyes with shame. My parents trusted us not to get into trouble, and we breached that trust. I don't know what convinced me that drinking that much alcohol was a good idea - one glass is forgivable, but not three; at least three. I mentally vow never to drink again, though only time will tell if I will stick to it.

"And I think we both know that we can't let you get away with this," Mom says.

I nod, then wince with the pain. I am beginning to feel a little sick.

"I convinced your father to postpone the punishment until the twenty sixth, so you can both enjoy Christmas day, however..." She pauses. "For one month, you will have to make every meal, and clean up afterwards. That includes setting and clearing the table, and washing up. Even if it means you have to wake up earlier to make breakfast."

I suppress a groan, but I know I deserve it. I shouldn't have been so irresponsible. But over four weeks of making breakfast, lunch and dinner... At least Caleb will be there to share the workload, but it's still very annoying.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I murmur as a wave of nausea overcomes me.

She looks at me almost sadly, like she expected better from me, as she stands up and heads for the door. "And I'm sorry it had to be this way, Beatrice. But we can't allow that kind of behaviour."

She leaves me to contemplate on my actions, as I wearily shut my eyes. How can my mother's approach make me feel so guilty?

* * *

After a few hours - and two trips to the bathroom to empty my stomach - I make my way downstairs, the pain in my head less severe. Caleb sits on a couch in the sitting room. His half-open eyes stare blankly at the television screen, zombie-like, as he clutches his head with one hand.

I seat myself next to him. On closer scrutiny, he looks more than hungover: he looks beyond wretched.

I don't greet him before speaking.

"Did you hear about what we have to do after Christmas Day?"

He nods slowly, and pulls a face. Over the months, I've learned that Caleb isn't all that selfless, he just knows what to do to appear that way to others, particularly our parents. I've grown up believing that Caleb was a role model I should follow, but now, I realise that he is human, too. He is not perfect. He can ignore his sister, something I've forgiven, but not quite forgotten. He can get drunk, resent doing chores, and be punished, just like me. It doesn't make me a better person than Caleb, but it does change my view of him - I now see him as an equal. Our relationship might have been different if I'd seen that earlier.

After a very long pause, Caleb speaks again.

"I mightn't be allowed to see Mel anymore," he says.

"What?"

He shrugs, but there is pain in his expression. "That's what Mom said. They think she might be a bad influence on me, even though I chose to drink because I wanted to. Mel didn't even offer me any vodka; she said it was all up to me and she wouldn't force me into anything as long as I didn't interfere with her decisions."

I lower my voice, hearing Mom's footsteps in the kitchen. "Did you explain that to Mom?"

"Of course I did. Didn't do much good."

I frown.

"Do you love Mel, Caleb?"

He thinks about it. "I don't think I love her, but I do like her a lot. I think we could work on love with time, though. Everyone thinks we'll break up because she's popular and needs drama in her life, but with the way we're going that shouldn't happen in the near future."

I nod.

"Anyway," he says, biting the inside of his cheek anxiously, "how do you think we should deal with Dad?"

"Don't do anything to make him angrier and hope for the best." I dread to think of how furious he'll be when he gets home. Snow began to fall an hour ago (I felt too deflated to care), so with some luck the roads will be blocked so Dad can't get home until late.

I feel some shame in my thoughts. I shouldn't wish bad luck on anybody, let alone my father. Besides, while our potential argument would be put off for at least half an hour, the delay would only serve to put him in a worse mood.

I sigh. I'd better start rehearsing an apology, though there is no real way to excuse my actions - unless I tell them that a friend threatened to publicly announce who I like if I didn't take a shot. Even so, I doubt they would accept that. And I am nowhere near ready to tell them about Tobias.

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 **I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but this fanfic is now over a year old! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this chapter.**


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